Chapter 4

March 25, 2020, 10:00am

Ian opened the now-defaced hidden door and glowered at Anthony, who burst into laughter the second he saw him. "I thought we were gonna keep your continued existence secret for a while, friend," he said.

"And who says we're not?" Anthony countered as he stopped laughing.

"Dead people don't go around writing the message that they still live, bitch! Got it?" Ian was really seething with rage, as evidenced by the now-pronounced twitch in his left eye.

Anthony held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Can you please not take this so seriously?"

Ian resumed his death glare. "Look, that guy in the wrinkly blue suit is really getting suspicious of us. I can tell. He's gonna blow the whole operation, and then we're just a couple of embarrassed doofuses who tried to stage a death hoax!"

"I think you mean 'doofi,'" Anthony said.

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Ian yelled. "Just...just stay in the house until we move on to phase two, all right? Keep to the plan, and even that stupid blondie can't ruin our publicity stunt."

Anthony shook his head angrily. "Some publicity stunt this is," he grumbled. "Gotta keep it all private."

While Anthony sat on the bed and gazed out the window, Ian made his way to the kitchen. Checking to ensure nobody was there to see him, he raised the index finger on his right hand, and watched as the fingernail elongated into a lethally sharp black claw, which looked at least somewhat reptilian in nature. Once the claw reached its full length, he dug into his left arm, gouging an inch-long, inch-deep slash, almost penetrating to the bone. It wasn't long before the blood oozing from the wound shifted colors, from deep red to midnight blue. Satisfied, Ian removed the claw and allowed the blue blood to drip into his mouth.

Then he stiffened, sensing someone was nearby. But it was only Anthony. Who else could it be, anyway? There was nobody else in the house.

"Um, dude, what are you doing?" asked Anthony.

Ian blushed slightly and stammered, "Uh...um...I was just practicing for our Self-Cannibalizing Vampire video."

"Mmmkay," said Anthony, after a long pause during which the awkward could almost be seen as well as touched. "Carry on." He sat on the couch, whistling nonchalantly, or at least in a close facsimile of nonchalant. Instead, he was starting to feel very nervous. There was no Self-Cannibalizing Vampire vid in the works for Smosh. So what in the hell was Ian doing?

Anthony waited for Ian to go into the shower and start singing, loudly and obnoxiously like usual, before he grabbed his cell phone and attempted to call the CBI. But he hung up before they could answer; as Ian would say, it just wouldn't do for a dead person to be calling the po-po unannounced. So instead, he took the keys from the hook by the door and made his way to the car. His ancient knockoff sports car, still surprisingly reliable as ever, started up instantly - as did the radio, which Ian had left on one of those god-awful hip-hop stations he loved so much. "Dammit, Ian!" he yelled, as if his best friend were sitting right next to him and not fighting to regain the meat suit stolen from him by a monster straight out of a cliched scary movie. Changing the station to something playing some alt-pop of the recently-ended decade, he pulled out of the driveway and made the long drive into the city.

Upon arriving at the CBI building, Anthony took a seat in the waiting area. He chuckled as he saw that the TV in the corner was playing a rerun of Dark Angel - because it was finally the years when that show was supposed to take place, it had become popular to show it in places where nobody could even be bothered to pay attention to what was on anyway. Although Anthony did spare a moment to chuckle when Normal called out, "Where the firetruck is Max?" In some other universe, perhaps he was complaining that Dark Angel had stolen his and Ian's favorite mangled swear.

Finally, the receptionist called at him to get his attention. Looking up and realizing nobody else was waiting, Anthony approached her and said, "I need to speak to Agent Van Pelt. My name is Anthony Padilla, and I think someone's murdered my best friend."