Finn fell to the ground as Rachel did, his eyes glassy.
The club checked their phones and jumped when they all rang.
That was untimely. She almost figured out my game. Seven deaths to go.
"Whoever did this is going to fucking die." he said.
Brittany came over to comfort him as he cried into his hands.
Sugar and Puck stared at the chart the club made. No use in that now, it was obviously not going to happen like that.
"Mr. Schue. We need to find Mr. Schue." Finn muttered. The club nodded.
How were they going to explain this?
Finally Brittany called him, saying that it was really important and they'd be at his apartment in ten minutes.
/
"So, what's going on? Where's the rest of the club?" Mr. Shue was highly confused.
"One of us-we don't know who-has been…k-killing the others." Santana stumbled out.
The killer shifted nervously, but no one noticed.
Mr. Schue laughed. "That's funny guys."
The remainder of the club shook their heads. "We can show you the bodies. He has a tendency towards a certain field. We assume it's a he because Santana wouldn't do that to Brittany, people already think Sugar's dad's in the mafia-so why would she do the dirty work herself, and Brittany's…Brittany." Blaine explained.
"Yeah, and he gave us a pattern to follow. Look." Finn said, showing him the series of texts.
Mr. Schue paled.
"Follow us." Artie instructed and he led them out the door.
/
Mr. Schue turned away as he saw Mercedes, Rachel, and Kurt. Unbeknownst to them, pretty much all the people had died near or in this field.
Mr. Schue shed a few tears, which then turned to sobs.
The killer smiled, but made it look sympathetic.
"How?" He asked, but Artie understood.
"The first was Rory-it looked like he was set on fire. That would be Brutal. The second was Sam, which was Scary-he slashed his throat, carved around his abs, and sent a picture to Quinn. Next was Quinn, which was Harmless-we found her lying in her bed. I think this guy gave her suicide tablets. Then was Mike, who was Sad-he mauled him. Then Mercedes, who was Deadly-GSW to the back, killing her instantly. Tina was Sudden-she must have been surprised. Kurt was Abrupt-he was in front of all of us but no one could stop the sniper that came from the woods. And Rachel died a few minutes ago in an Untimely manner-another sniper right as she figured out who the killer is."
Mr. Schue looked at them with shock. How they could be so strong-and calm-during such a bad time was beyond him.
"Okay, so we know that one person will survive. This means that the killer either really loves that person, or hates them so much they want them to live with being alone and have survivor's guilt." Sugar reasoned.
"Yeah, and we don't know who." Puck said.
Mr. Schue held his head in his hands and sighed. "I don't pretend to know what's going on, but it doesn't sound like we can go to the police about this. Let's all get some sleep and regroup tomorrow."
The club nodded with him.
"If anyone has any other information, please tell us now."
Brittany timidly raised her hand. Mr. Schue nodded at her.
"Okay, so a few days ago, I got a text and I don't know the number but all it said was I love you. I don't know who it's from but a few minutes later I found out Rory died."
Finn took her phone and read through the messages. He grimaced when he found a particular one with Santana that depicted exactly what Santana would do to Brittany. He blushed and then scrolled down until he found the single text.
He sighed. "Brittany did you ever put Rory's number in your phone?"
Brittany shook her head. "I find my phone confusing. I didn't know how the buttons worked until Santana showed me."
The club shook their heads and turned their attention back to Finn. Finn shook his head, a tear rolling down his cheek.
"This is Rory's number. He must have sent this to anyone he felt close to."
The killer smiled. Rory was dead when that text was sent. He knew full well where that text came from, and it sure wasn't the hands of Rory.
He loved this game.
/
The two victims walked home together. They were cousins, after all. Little did they know, the killer was right behind them. He grabbed them and dragged them back to the field.
He bound them to two chairs he had moved to the center of the field, and gagged them. He made them face each other as he slipped them two numbing pills each.
Before he started he spoke. "I know you guys hate me, but this is necessary for my vendetta. Take the pills, they'll ease your pain."
The victims looked at each other and nodded. They took the pills as a tear rolled down each of their cheeks.
The killer took out a gun and shot them both. He didn't like killing, but it was necessary. He took a steakknife and embedded it in one of their heads, then fired round after round at the other. He snapped a picture and sent it to the rest of the club.
This is what happens when you ask the wrong questions. This is rather Depressing, don't you think? Only five left. Four deaths.