#onebyonekill

[onebyoneverse]

7:15am, Day Five

angelxmarwolaeth:

She didn’t have to be asked twice, in fact, she wasn’t specifically asked in the first place. It’d been a consensus among those still remaining in the hotel lobby, even if an unspoken one: they really needed help. Too many were dead now and as time crept on, it was all too clear that no one was safe. So, when the idea of bring- ing in the police was voiced,  there was no hesitation before she volunteered to take on that responsibility.

         ❝ I’ll go. ❞

Two words, a slight nod in Noah’s direction–I’ll be fine, you stay here and help them– and she was stepping out of the hotel with her gun tightly pressed into her palm.

The walk to the police station wasn’t long; at the quick pace she took on, it was even shorter. While the department hadn’t been able to do much in the way of protecting them, perhaps having a constant presence would deter the murderer enough for them to make a mistake.  But,  as she stepped through the threshold and into the station, her confidence wavered.

It was all too quiet and a vibe similar to the ones drifting around the hotel lobby that morning washed over her.

        ❝ Officer Maddox? ❞

She didn’t like the way her voice echoed with no response. He’d been the officer who detained Deyla at the beginning of the week, the one chosen specifically to keep an eye on things at the hotel and upon finding out that Regina and her husband were definitely more than they seemed, she now knew why. Her reflection of the past few days was cut short as she turned the corner leading to his desk. Fingers curling even tighter around her weapon’s grip, a soft gasp broke through pursed lips.

         ❝ No– no, no damn it. ❞

The policeman sat, poised at his desk as if carrying on his daily duties,  perfectly still.  Two dark spots decorated his chest,  the unmistakeable crimson color spreading across blue in a rather ugly design. Even with his eyes closed, she could almost see the fear etched into his final expression and though a small part of her asked to make sure he wasn’t still alive, the lack of breath lifting his chest confirmed what she already knew. There was no time to dwell on the body in the office,  the killer could still be nearby and she needed to tell the others.

      ❝ DAMN IT. ❞

Turning on a heel, she broke out in a sprint in the direction of the hotel.  While concerned lined her expression,  it was paired only with determination. They were alone now, all they had were each other.

     ❝ He’s dead– Officer Maddox, he was shot in his office. Twice in the chest. ❞

The words fell from her lips as a continuous stream, no breath to take as her hands found her knees in an attempt to cover from the run. Her eyes moved from guest to guest, her head shaking.

    ❝ We aren’t getting any help. ❞ 

[onebyoneverse]

Sometime in the night, Day 4-5.

The murders had terrified the locals and the guests, and Stanley Maddox was dealing with crowd control. The little island didn’t need more than a sheriff and a deputy - and his damn deputy was on vacation in Vegas for two weeks. Which meant that he alone was the law enforcement presence on the island, and with communication to the main- land completely cut off, things were more than a little out of hand.

He hadn’t slept in nearly 48 hours; with a killer on the loose, he couldn’t afford to. But as he sat at his desk flipping through the files of the old Wakefield murders (maybe it was a copycat; maybe he could find something to help there), he felt his head nodding. After eight or nine sudden starts to keep himself awake, he lost his battle with sleep, and his chin dropped down to his chest.

He awoke some indeterminable time later when the bell on the front door of the sheriff’s station jingled, announcing a newcomer. He sat up, hand on his holstered weapon, but didn’t unhook it.

       “Can I help you?”

The words were polite, and when he noticed how frightened the newcomer looked, he relaxed. “Hey, listen, it’s okay.” His hand fell away from his gun; he stood to look at the other. “I’m working on figuring this out right now. What’s going on?” A dark feeling settled in his gut, and he frowned.

        “Was there another one-?”

Gun. The thought registered too late in his mind as he reached for his own, only to hear the first of two shots. Two bullets, straight into his chest, as his body staggered backwards and into his chair. The pain was more than he could imagine ever ending, but he still fumbled for his gun, free hand clutched against the bullet wounds, staining with blood – the killer was gone.

And soon after, so was Stanley Maddox.

[onebyoneverse]

Night, Day 4, The Candlewick

There’s no chance for survival.

The killings as of late have seemed brutal, harsh, and hard to commit - as if a struggle were involved. Stranglings and stabbings and drownings- these things are personal kills. Up close, and messy.

And this one is no different.

It’s quiet. The day is long, and everyone has retired to their own rooms in an effort to get precious sleep - barricading and locking their doors in the hopes that maybe, the killer won’t choose them next.

He finds himself unable to sleep, too wired by the events of the previous day to allow himself to rest. Eyes closed might mean death. He can’t let that happen. So instead he sits on his bed and stares out the window, at the night sky and at the stars and the moon, shimmering brightly, like a promise that everything will be okay.

This wedding was a mess before people started dying, and now, it’s a nightmare. He just wants off this island - he wants to get everyone away safely and go home. Was it too much to ask for? He had to keep himself safe; he had to keep the rest of the people there safe. But what if one of them was the killer? They had to be smart and wary.

And yet, when he died, he didn’t even have time to think that he had made a fatal error.

He’d turned his back to the locked door.

It was as quick as hands on either side of his head, a quick twist, a brutal snap --

And Alexandre Enjolras’ world went dark.

Modnote;

This drabble was not written by sxrieux‘s mun. Because they were absent from tumblr for a few days, this drabble was written by the mod. Apologies are made for any inconsistencies with the character portrayal.

[onebyoneverse]

taylor williams.

Taylor rose with the sun and made his way down to the docks early in the day. He'd been asked to lend a hand for the day, before the wedding procession took up more of his time. Oh the woes of holy matrimony. He caught sight of Finnick as he approached the docks, the beach otherwise deserted at this hour. "Mornin'," he greeted once the other man was within earshot. "Need a hand?"

                                                                       finnick odair.

                                    Finnick looked up as Taylor's voice reached his ears, un-                                                                       tangling one hand from the mess of rope he was working                                     with to raise it in greeting. "Yeah, that'd be great," he an-                                     swered, going back to coiling the mess of cord neatly. "You                                     wanna find the other end of this?"

taylor williams.

Taylor nodded in acknowledgement of the wave and the question, approaching Finnick and his piles of rope. "No problem," he chuckled, his own hands soon tangled up in rope. "Though, there's a pretty good chance this is going to result in nothing but a knot."

                                                                        finnick odair.

                                       A shrug, his attention on the ropes. "Well, that's what it is                                       anyway, so I don't see how you can make it wor-" He fell                                       silent, his head snapping up, expression intent. "Did you                                       hear that?"

taylor williams.

Taylor had heard it too, and nodded slowly, rising from his crouch, tilting his head and listening intently. It came again, a voice, calling for help. "I think it's coming from the caves," he answered, keeping his voice measured and quiet.

                                                                             finnick odair.

                                      Finnick stood, straining his ears to hear more. "That's - that's                                      someone..." The words became more distinct the longer he                                      listened, and his gaze filled with alarm. “Calling for help." He                                      was already in a sprint, waving at Taylor to follow, completely                                      ignoring the work they had been doing. "Come on!"

taylor williams.

Taylor was about to cut him off, seeing the shout forming, but he was already off sprinting, completely blowing any chance they might have had at being subtle. If someone was being att- acked, the chances of them sneaking up had been reduced significantly. He swore under his breath and took off after him, towards the source of the sound.

                                                                          finnick odair.

                                       Finnick was oblivious to Taylor's efforts, tearing down the                                       docks and towards the source of the distress. He couldn't                                       pinpoint who the voice belonged to with the wind in his ears                                       like that, but he didn't care. He didn't know what had happ-                                      ened to them. He slowed when he reached the caves, look-                                      ing about quickly. "Hello? Hey, is someone here?!"

taylor williams.

Taylor grumbled to himself, then spoke up, his eyes widening as he thought he saw a figure in the cave. "Finnick!" he shouted, man- euvering through the rocks as best he could, trying to catch up with him, though the wind and the caves around them swept his voice away. He finally caught up, just past the mouth of the cave, and he opened his mouth to call out again, but was cut off with a harsh crack to the back of his head, the words catching in his throat with a sharp gurgle. The man's legs gave out, and he crumpled to the ground.

                                                                             finnick odair.

                                      Finnick continued to search, unaware of what had happened                                       to his companion, worried for whoever he had heard before.                                      "Hey, hello? Is anyone here?" He let his words ring through                                      the seaside caverns before he finally turned to find his friend.                                      "Tay, I - Taylor!" His words were panicked as he rushed back                                      to find the man lying on the ground, blood pouring from the                                     back of his skull. Finnick dropped to his knees beside him,                                     his stomach twisting as he saw the harsh indentation in the                                     back of his head. Was he even alive?! "Tay - Taylor, oh fuck,                                     Taylor--" Shaky hands reached out to touch him, panic                                     closing off his throat, making it hard to breathe. "Taylor, look,                                     we can - stay with me, man!"

                                    He felt his breath leave his body before he felt anything else.                                     And then it slammed into him like a bulldozer. The pain as a                                     blade entered his back, the twist ...he fell forward, face down,                                     with no chance to see his assailant, the pain too great to                                     move. " Help ..." The word came out as a wheeze, too quiet                                     to be heard by any but him. He could feel Taylor's arm                                     pressing into his side - unmoving.

                                    It wasn't long before his world went black.

Modnote;

DO NOT REACT TO THIS DEATH YET. The bodies have not yet been found. This kill happened at dawn, but refrain from letting your muses react until the drabble has been posted discovering the bodies.

[onebyoneverse]

Day 2 - night.

perditioner:

    it’s dark when dean steps outside. the sun has set and the island is quiet     and calm, the sounds of partying from wedding guests dimming as they     retire to bed. dean’s just left his own little party — her idea, as she didn’t      want them seen leaving the hotel room together. she has a reputation to      uphold. 

    he doesn’t, but he goes along with it.

    tipsy and riding a high from his successful night, dean leaves the hotel,      embracing the coolness of the evening air and happy to avoid sleep for      the moment. he heads down to the shoreline; the waves are as gentle as     the air; it’s impressively still for a sea breeze. 

    his mind wanders over the events of the wedding; there has been tragedy,     sure, but he thinks to himself that he’s glad he came. he has no interest in     watching the bride and groom get married, not really — but he’s enjoying     the first change of scenery he’s had in a long time. it gives him hope. and     as he trails over the beach, thumbs caught in jean pockets, feet dragging     in the sand, dean decides ( something he’d never admit to anyone ) that     he’d like to stay in this moment … forever.

    almost as soon as the thought crosses his mind, a sharp blow to the head      brings him to his knees, and he can’t even cry out before the world around     him blurs into darkness. 

    forever is an ironically short time.