Disclaimer: This is a work of (fan)fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Veronica Mars and its characters are owned by Warner Bros Television.

Prologue

Robert Thomasina was a very tall man, around 6'5 and at a first glance, nobody would ever guess that he was a writer and a showrunner of a famous TV series. People usually guessed that he was a former football player or some sort of an athlete. He just turned 50 years old, but he didn't look like his age. He looked younger and very healthy-looking. He usually wore comfortable flannel and glasses, which made him more like a regular-looking guy than a wealthy popular showrunner.

The man was a showrunner and a creator of a TV show called "Cupid Party and The Zombies"; a cult tv show that ran for more than 15 years. It had a dedicated following and fans adored the series so much. But even after all these years, Robert realized that he was only a B-list writer and showrunner – he didn't have more than one groundbreaking tv show. His other projects were rejected or failed to launch. Cancelation after cancelation always happening to his other shows, and he became weary of his incapability of creating another success. Finally, he made a drastic measure to get his name out there after being in the business for more than 20 years.

A decision that he would regret.

Robert was inside his office at the studio MoneyMaker. He built this company from scratch after the success of his tv show. He watched the rain outside the window while sipping a bottle of beer. He was a simple man; he watched basketball on tv and had seasonal hockey game tickets. He liked going to the bars with his friends. He watched classic 80s movies. He was a bassist in a band once he was in college and they had minuscule success playing in some local places. He used to play some football and almost got into professional until his knee acting up, and he decided that he was a better writer than a footballer. He was 50 years old and he felt burnt out.

His office phone rang, and he picked it up. "Hello? Yes, honey. I'm about to finish up here." He put his empty bottle on the desk and stared at some envelopes. They all were hate mails. "Yeah, I – I turned off my iPhone. Sorry, honey. They kept ringing and buzzing. I just… I just need to turn it off." He heard his wife talking on the other side. "I know. Well, we just had a table reading today so it was…nice. Maybe I just need to move on, even when I lost all the fanbase." He sat on the leather chair and sighed while listening to his wife. "The network said that I need to make another big hit for the show or they would pull the plug." He paused when he heard his wife objected. "They can, actually. It's their money." He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. "Gold yelled again today – scared everyone's off. You'd think after all these years, he'd loosen up." He grabbed an envelope and frowned. The envelope was a bit heavy – he looked it against the light and saw some tiny objects inside it but he didn't know what. "Anyway, I'll be home soon. What are you making for dinner? I'm starving."

Robert opened the envelope with his hand and he yelped in pain. He saw that his index finger was bloody. He widened his eyes and saw that inside the envelope there were tiny and thin razor blades. "Robert? What is it?" His wife exclaimed, worriedly.

"Nothing. I got spooked by a thunder outside." Before his wife could reply, he cut her off. "I'm going home now. See you soon, okay?" He bid goodbye to his wife and put the receiver down. He stared at his bleeding finger.

For a few weeks now, there was a string of pranks happening in the studio. Pranks that Robert thought were childish and he didn't think much about it until they escalated. First, someone replaced the hair gel for the actors with Gorilla Glue. Many of the actors had to go to the hospital to remove the glue. Secondly, someone put a bucket of oatmeal on top of the makeup room. The main actress of the show, Kristin Bellarusso, was the victim when the bucket fell on her, covering her with smelly oatmeal. The third one was when someone puts a bag of dog poop under his desk. The fourth one was when someone put a can of tuna inside the air-conditioner in his office, so his office smelled of fish for the rest of the week. The fifth one was when someone put a firecracker under his director chair. When it exploded, it made everyone scared. The latest one was when someone sent everyone an anonymous email saying "DIE, CPATZ, DIE". And now, this...

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a band-aid. He wrapped the colorful band-aid around his finger and then carefully put the envelope filled with razor blades inside the drawer. He stared at the inside of the drawer – the drawer had so many opened letters, many of them were hate mails. They were from former fans. Some of them were anonymous, some of them weren't. He reported the letters to his lawyer, and his lawyer said that things like that were normal especially regarding fans and their TV shows. According to his lawyer, soaps fans were more notorious. This, this was nothing.

Robert disagrees with that assessment. The former fans were ruthless on social media, especially on Twitter. Every day for the past year ever since the last season of his tv show, he received so many hate tweets – so much so, he decided to delete his account. Entertainment Tonight was doing a coverage about the show, and it was very negative. Although a lot of his peers like the actors and the journalists were mostly on his side, he suspected it was fake. There was a possibility that Joseph Gold, the executive producer, paid them off to say positive things just to get good publicity and a way for the show not to get canceled. Or maybe he forced them to sign the NDA.

Gold told him that he was a "has-been": a really lousy writer who got lucky with his show. The last season was a testament to his talent, according to Gold. The fans told him off that his career was over. All because… he killed off a character. Robert hated that character. He wanted to kill that character a decade ago. But the fans loved the character so much, he couldn't stand it.

"Agatha Christie killed off Hercule Poirot." He muttered to himself. "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle killed off Sherlock Holmes." Why this one was any different? Why they hated him so much? "It's just a character…" He whispered. "I'm the greatest writer ever lived, and those hacks just can't appreciate me. Plus, Agatha Christie and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle can suck my dick." He then remembered that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle also got hate mails from his fans. Gosh, he hated fans. If he could choose, he'd rather have investors instead. "Fans are insignificant." Never mind that the fans were the ones who watched his show and bought his books.

He turned off the light of his office and walked out. It was still raining when he reached the parking lot. Everyone else was already gone including the actors. They didn't say goodnight or goodbye to him since Gold told them that there was a possibility that the show would get canceled. Robert could feel their eyes at him when he was walking around the studio. They might've blamed him for the possible cancelation. Fifteen years the show was on the air, and now the show might get canned. All because he wrote a death scene for a character – a legacy character that everyone loved, but he hated so much.

He felt it wasn't fair that he got blamed for killing a fictional character. He just didn't understand it. But Gold didn't care – he was losing money and faith from the network. They needed a black sheep, and Robert Thomasina was right there.

He climbed into his car and exhaled loudly. He was a bit wet from the rain and put his briefcase on the back seat. He frowned when he saw a piece of paper on the passenger seat. He took the piece of paper and read it. His eyes widened in fear.

"YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT A FICTIONAL CHARACTER? THINK AGAIN. ADIOS, ROB"

Robert knew immediately who have sent the threatening emails, mails, and all the pranks that happened around the studio. But he didn't have time to react because he saw a very bright light and heat coming from inside his car. He didn't have time to react when the car exploded with a loud bang and it shattered all the glass windows near the parking lot - the shockwave from the blast shaken all the cars and turned on their alarms.

Robert Thomasina was dead before he even realized what happened.