TW//: Swearing, guns.

"What are you doing?"
The new person asked sharply, their glare flicking between the Detective and the Colonel.

"Who the Hell are you?"
The Detective asked sharply, lowering their gun as they glared back at the new person.

"Owen? What are you doing here?"
The Colonel asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion. His gun lowered as he turned to look at this... Owen person.

""Owen"? How the Hell do you know him?"
The Detective asked sharply. Their eyes settled in a glare on the Colonel, even with their gun pointed to the floor. The Colonel immediately pointed their gun at the Detective again. The Butler walked over, now standing between you and the Colonel. The Colonel snapped around, gun pointed at the Butler. The Butler payed no mind to it.

"Madame, I'm afraid you've come in at a very inopportune time. Something dreadful has happen here."
The Butler said, a slight frown on his face. Oh yeah, the possible zombie Scott situation... you almost forgot about that. You look back over at Owen. The Chef was to your left now, standing just out of your peripheral vision.

"I can see that, and I'm glad I got here before it got any worse."
Owen said, looking around at the others, not glancing at you once. The Chef shoved their hand into the empty space in front of Owen, one finger raised. Owen stared at him in mild confusion.

"This is only the tip of the iceberg! And it's a big iceberg."
The Chef said before lowering his hand. Owen put his left hand on his chest. You can see smaller details on Owen now, he had black painted nails, a black ring on his right hand. And a silver necklace. Okay, enough watching the random person who barged in.
"How can I put this delicately?"
The Chef pondered, looking away as Owen glanced around. Before his head snapped back to Owen and making him flinch in mild shock, you flinched too, out of reflex. You don't like the Chef all too much,
"SCOTT'S FUCKING DEAD!"
The Chef exclaimed. Wow, so delicate...

"What?"
Owen replied, his brows furrowed inwards a little as he frowned.

"Dead, like my hopes and dreams..."
The Chef almost muttered, but he was heard. Owen gave the Chef a both concerned and 'what the fuck?' look, bending forwards to almost check on the Chef. Oh. How relatable. The Chef snapped back to looking at Owen. GOD you hate this unpredictable man-
"And he's a flesh eating zombie too!"
The Chef stated, pointing their ladle at Owen before lowering it. Don't know why, rather not know.

"Homo necrosis."
Owen said, looking over at where the Detective and the Colonel where. He was concerned, one of the only concerned ones in this manor... beside Jacob. Where they related or something?

"Exactly, hence the guns."
The Colonel said, gun still raised, but now pointed in between the Chef and Owen, he gave it a wave. Pointing it all around before settling it back to the previous position.

"That is not "hence the guns"!"
The Detective chimed in, waving their gun as well. You seen the difference in their guns now, the Detective had a sleek black one. And the Colonel had a shiny, silver gun. You don't know guns well enough to tell what kind they were, so you brush it off.

"Stop waving those bloody guns around!"
The Butler exclaimed. Honestly, you agree with that statement, you do not like waving guns, not very comfortable especially for the fact someone has been shot by one only hours ago... hours... it felt like days...... the Detective and the Colonel waved their guns in the Butler's face, the Chef joined in with his ladle.

"Hol-Hold on! Tell me what happened! How did Scott... die?"
Owen asked, breaking off the gun-and-ladle waving in the Butler's face. You stepped closer to him. You preferred this man over the others in this places... Jacob too.

"It was murder."
Jacob said from behind, you span around to face him. He was simply standing their, almost like a lost puppy. Almost. Thunderstruck.
"And worse yet... the body is missing."
Jacob said, walking closer to the group- but not too close. You didn't blame him. There were two possibly gay arguing men waving guns around, and the Chef. That was reasonable enough to stay away. Or maybe he's just hesitant... you turn back to Owen.

"What? Show me. And don't say that word."
Owen stated. Huh? What word?

"What word? Murder?"
The Chef asked, thunderstruck again. You notice, finally, it was a clear day outside... maybe the weathers just weird today. As the lights flashed, you where now in the room where the body previously was.

"Yes! That word!"
Owen stated. Why though? It's not that bad of a word... you turn your head to the Butler as he spoke. You can just see the barrel on the Colonel's gun, pointed at the Butler. Never at you...

"Well, I mean murder is a rather accurate description of what occur—"
The Butler started before Owen walked over and whacked his shoulder. Unnecessary much-

"Do you not see the lighting?"
Owen asked sharply, gesturing his hand to... basically the wall, but you understood it was just meant for the lighting. Whatever that meant.

"You sayin' it was lighting that murdered Scott?"
The Detective said as you turned your head to them. Thunderstruck. The Colonel pointed their gun at the Detective's shoulder, then at the roof as they looked up at it, before lowering his gun.

"Well, Mother Nature doesn't exactly strike me as having murderous intent."
The Colonel said. Thunderstruck again. He looked over at Owen before looking down at the floor, before looking back up, straight at you, his gun pointed to the ceiling.
"...Unless you count that one time I was sucked into the board game: Jumanji and I wa—!"
The Colonel started, before being cut off... he what?

"Stop, stop! Look, whatever's happening here is tapping into forces far beyond our control."
Owen stated. You slowly looked over at the Chef... the Colonel turned as well. Time for a round of say-the-word-similar-to-murder...

"murder."
The Chef said quietly. Thunderstruck. How helpful... you look to the Colonel, his gun still out and aimed at the ceiling.

"Mur...doch?"
The Colonel said slowly, testing it... no thunder.

"Malarkey."
The Detective chimed in. Nothing at all. You look to the Butler, catching a glimpse of Owen's face, he didn't seem too pleased.

"Marco!"
The Butler said. Thunderstruck, probably pissed with their messing around. Oh, you're at a table now. That dining room table.

"Enough!"
Owen said sharply, his gaze flicking from the Chef of the chair to his left, to the Butler on his right, then the Detective, then the Colonel... you where right by the Colonel. No thank you.
"Look. Scott's death is a terrible thing indeed. But I fear that there are forces much darker than anything we've seen here today."
Owen occasionally looked at you as he spoke, but his gaze kept moving.
"I'm well versed in the arcane arts, but if you, untrained and uninitiated, can summon lighting with a mere word, we're all in far graver danger than anything we could ever hope to face alone. We're gonna have to work together if we're going to survive this."
Owen stated. You were not going to work with the Chef. Hell, you didn't want to work with the Detective. But oh well. You look to your left, Jacob was there... at least it's someone you trust by you.

"Owen, what are you proposing?"
Jacob asked, his brows furrowed inwards in worry. You look back at Owen.

"We need the speak with Scott."
Owen said, blankly. As if he wasn't suggesting speaking with a dead person.

"I knew it! He's a flesh-eating zombie!"
The Chef exclaimed. Oh, yeah that... possible zombie Scott...... if he was a flesh-eating zombie, why hasn't he shown up to eat them all yet...?

"No."
Owen said simply, giving a slight glare to the Chef.

"Well, maybe it's one of those smart zombies: homeo sapio zombifus."
The Colonel chimed in. Why is he excited about zombie types-

"No, no. I need to commune with the dead."
Owen stated. Wait, was this a séance thing? Oh no.

"That... doesn't sound like a good idea."
The Detective said, their eyes sharp in suspicion.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't need your permission."
Owen said sharply. Uh... well- isn't the Detective in charge though...?... you don't care anymore. You'd rather not be roped into it. You can just see the Butler silently chuckling. You where going to look over at the Detective, but Owen spoke to you, pointing his finger at you.
"But you! You've been awfully quiet throughout this whole thing."
Owen accused. He wasn't wrong...... you don't like to speak is all. You look over to the Chef

"With those beady little eyes."
The Chef said, glaring at you. You're glad he doesn't have his ladle right now. You look to the Butler.

"And wearing THOSE rags, pff."
The Butler mocked. You're clothes were completely fine! You look to the Detective.

"Maybe I shouldn't have trusted someone so goddamm gorgeous."
The Detective said, you didn't know if you should be flattered or not, but you took the compliment nonetheless. You look to the Colonel. Who looked around before looking at you.

"Oh, I'll pass."
The Colonel said, raising a hand in dismissal. You turn back to Owen, who was still staring directly at you.

"But I feel like I can trust you. I sense that you have a far greater part to play in all of this. Will you help me find an answer?"
Owen asked, his gaze never leaving you for a single second. You nod in agreement.
"Perfect. Come with me."
Owen said, a sly, almost devilish smile on his face as started to get out of the chair. He didn't make it out in time as the Detective interrupted him.

"Alright, that's enough. I'm not just gonna sit around and let you drag my partner off to their very likely death. I won't stand for it!"
The Detective stated, their hands slamming on the table as they stood up.

"Well, I trust Owen with all my heart! I see no reason why an-any-any one should doubt him!"
The Colonel stated, getting up as well.

"Well, I have to agree with our intrepid detective. It just doesn't seem natural."
The Butler said with one raised finger, he didn't stand up though.

"I never liked this uptight asshole. He walks around with a stick up his ass."
The Chef said, gesturing to the Butler.
"But I think he's right, something's weird."
The Chef said, he didn't stand up either.

"If it makes you feel any better, you guys can stand watch outside the door, but my work CANNOT be interrupt."
Owen stated sharply, he stood up properly this time.

"Oh, believe you me. I'll be keeping a close eye on every single one of you. Even myself. Especially myself."
The Detective said, looking at the others before their eyes settle on you. He smiles at you. You ignore it completely as you turn to Owen, walking around the table. His hand brushed over Jacob's chair as he left, you got up and followed. Jacob glanced at Owen before looking back at the table.

"Wh—Owen? Owen, wait. Wait!"
Jacob said, hurrying out of his chair. He brushed past you, standing in Owen's way of the stairs. Yet again those same stairs you first saw Scott on. You'd rather not think about that anymore.

"Yes, Jacob?"
Owen asked flatly, he was irritated. Fair enough though, if you wanted to do something you'd rather not be interrupted.

"I... are you alright?"
Jacob asked, his hand rested on the railing to block Owen's path. Owen simply sighed to the question.
"I know this news can't be settling well with you."
Jacob said, concern in his voice. Owen pushed past him.

"I'm fine for now."
Owen said, walking up the stairs quickly. You were still at the bottom with Jacob.

"I... er..."
Jacob fumbled, looking back at you for a second before trailing behind Owen. You follow.
"But all this talk of the occult! And—and Scott's dead, wait! Wait!"
Jacob called, climbing after Owen. Reaching his hand out as Owen hit the top. Owen stopped and span around, facing Jacob with a glare.
"I just didn't think you were the type to become mixed up with all this."
Jacob said softly, his hand lowered to his side.

"There is more to this world than you could ever hope to imagine. I just have my eyes open to a small portion of it."
Owen stated, before walking off.

"I..."
Jacob paused, giving a soft sigh.
"Just be careful!"
He out called to Owen, before looking over at you as you go past him.
"You too."
He said, before you walked past him. You continued down the hallway to the left. You spy Owen ahead of you and you trail a few feet behind as he walked. He didn't even glance back to check if you were following him, just walking forwards. He walked onwards until he got to a shadowed over door, opening it to reveal a small room. Black curtains on the left, more cream walls. By the curtains was two pictures, one above the other. You weren't close enough to see it. A soft, white light was shining up at the black curtains from bellow.

"Can you hand me my bag?"
Owen asked as he sat down by a wooden table, you walk too the opposite end of the table in search for the bag on the chair, a fancy wooden chair at that. Nothing was there, then when you turn around... Owen dropped the bag onto the floor. The white glow now green. Tarot cards laid out on the table, two candle on either side.
"Thank you. Please, have a seat."
Owen said, gesturing to the chair. You sat down on it, there was a whole horoscope cloth underneath the tarot cards. And there where more candles, all of various sizes, surrounding a crystal ball. Owen must be really into this stuff...
"Now, I'm sure this must be unsettling for you, being thrust into this series of unfortunate events. But I promise—with your help, I'm going to get to the bottom of this."
Owen stated, before looking down at the tarot cards, his gaze flicking over them.
"Now I'm not sure who would want to kill Scott, but something tells me this seemingly significant event is actually a footnote in a much larger in a much larger mystery unfolding in our midst."
Owen said, before signing. His gaze breaking from the cards too look at the ceiling, a frown on his face.
"I've never been very comfortable in this house. But something tells me..."
Owen took a short pause, his gaze flicking down again. His eyes shutting tightly.
"Now that my eyes are open, there are dark forces surrounding this manor."
As Owen speaks, your vision goes black at the edges. Fear climbed up your spine. Why are you passing out? This is not good. Owen sighed heavily, looking at you intensely.

"Keep your enemies close, eh?"
You faintly hear the Detective voice as Owen fades from view.

"I will not be called a murder in my own house!"
The Colonel snarled at the Detective. The seen was hazy now, a blue shine across your vision.
"Stop!"
Owen, when he barged in.

The scene faded to black as well.

"I thought it was time that we come to get to know each other, far away from the prying eyes of...anyone else."
The Colonel said to you again. The memory faint, cover in blue haze.

It faded to black as well.

"You're not gonna believe this. I can't believe this. The body—the body is gone. It's fucking gone!"
The Detective stated in your memories, when Scott's body went missing. But you look up to the balcony this time, the Colonel was there, staring down at you.

The memory faded to black.

"...Not exactly sure what we're supposed to be celebrating. I mean, it's good to have the gang back together, but out of the blue like this seems..."
The memory of Jacob said.

It faded to black as well.

Some one was laughing. Someone you don't know, you haven't met yet. He had a shovel. The Chef was to their left
"Employers come and go, come and go. Some die, some don't."

The scene faded to black. You don't know what that was... the future?

Thunderstruck as you jolted out, frantically looking around. You where still in the weird occult room.

"What happened? Why did you stop?"
Owen asked sharply, not even trying to soothe your panic... mean.
"Did you see something? Someone? Draw it."
Owen pulled out a sheet of yellowed paper from his bag, shoving it in your face. You took the paper and a quill you now had apparently. And you drew... definitely something, not exactly what you seen but close enough. A man with a shovel digging in the dirt. You passed it back to Owen, he scowled.
"What is this? This doesn't answer anything!"
Owen snarled, passing the paper back to you aggressively. Standing up as he did.
"You need to go back! Go back, now!"
Owen snapped out. It was honestly a little terrifying, the aggression of those words. The Detective barged in.

"What the shit is this?"
The Detective asked, a scowl on his face.

"Get out! We are not done here!"
Owen snapped out. You want to be done, this man was terrifying.

"Owen, I think this is quite enough."
Jacob said, walking into the room, he stood nearby Owen.

"It's enough when I SAY it's enough!"
Owen shouted at Jacob, his hands slamming on the table. What the actual Hell?

"C'mon partner, let's go. Come on! Hurry it up!"
The Detective stated, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the room. You didn't want to leave Jacob in their with the very angry and possibly insane man, but you had no choice. The Detective took the paper you drew on from your hand, examining it,
"What did he do to you? What's this? Butler! Butler!"
The Detective called out, looking at the paper in confusion before looking up. God, this was so confusing. The Butler rounded the corner, confusion on his face.

"What? What is it?"
The Butler asked as the Detective showed him the paper.

"This mean anything to you?"
The Detective asked sharply, the Butler gingerly grabbed the paper, but didn't take it from the Detective's hand. The Chef looked at it, before looking away, staring at the empty doorframe.

"Well, maybe...no, sorry."
The Butler said, releasing the paper.

"Spit it out if you got something!"
The Detective demanded. The Chef turned around, hands on his hips. Suspicious...

"Well...it could be our groundskeeper George, but he only works on weekdays."
The Butler explained, the Chef still looks suspicious behind the Butler. The Chef turned around though, looking around.

"Looks like your friend here may disagree with that notion!"
The Detective stated, looking over at the Chef. The Butler looked as well.

"Me?"
The Chef asked quietly, looking at the Butler then the Detective.

"Yeah, you."
The Detective said dryly, it was obvious that they where talking to him. You wouldn't look directly at a person and talk to someone behind you after all.

"Uh...I don't know shit, I plead the fifth, man."
The Chef said, raising his hands in surrender.

"Chef, if you know something, for god's sake spit it out!"
The Butler sharply snarled at the Chef. It's yell after yell in here... goddamn madhouse. The Chef hesitantly looked around.

"Okay, alright, you're twisting my arm, alright. George has been living on the grounds for years."
The Chef admitted, his hands lowered to his sides.

"WHAT!?"
The Butler exclaimed in his shock.

"And you just now thought to share that information with us? For all we know, he could be the murder!
The Detective sharply said. He wasn't wrong. Thunderstruck.

"For the last time, stop saying that word!"
Owen said, now walking down that hall. Jacob trailed behind him, his hand raised for a second, but fell back down.

"Look. George... just tends to the grounds, man. He's a fuckin' hermit!"
The Chef stated to the Detective.

"I don't care what the fuck he is!"
The Detective said sharply back to the Chef.

"Look, all this arguing is getting us nowhere! Just go outside and talk to this George and be done with it!"
Jacob said, trying to defuse the arguing. Thank God someone has a brain...

"Hold on a sec. You're not coming with us?"
The Detective asked Jacob, a brow quirked in question.

"I-I need to stay with Owen."
Jacob said, gesturing to Owen beside him.

"I don't need help. Especially from you!"
Owen retorted to Jacob.

"OUR FRIEND IS DEAD!"
Jacob snapped out. Everyone flinched, even if just a little. That was loud...
"I'm sorry. I just need answers to all of this. I already lost one friend today; I don't want to lose another."
Jacob apologised with a soft sigh, a frown on his face.

"Fine, but I need to stay here."
Owen stated, adjusting his falling cardigan.

"Fine with me."
Jacob said with a soft nod, his hands folded in front of him.

"Fine, good, yeah, whatever, who cares. Alright, you're coming with me. Partner, you too."
The Detective said to you and the Chef, you glance over at Jacob and Owen, seeing them walk off.
"Hold on a sec... We're missing somebody. Who had eyes on the Colonel?"
The Detective asked, looking around in a quick glance. Where was the Colonel...?

"Well, he appeared tired, and...went back to his room."
The Butler said. The Detective didn't seem to full believe that.

"I'm sure he did. And with any luck, he'll stay there. Alright, let's roll out. Come on."
The Detective said, walking off and dragging the Chef with him. You look over to where Jacob and Owen went, to see Owen shutting the door to the weird room. You were hesitant to leave Jacob with Owen, god knows what would happen...
"Move it. Come on, partner, come on!"
The Detective called to you. You hesitantly follow behind, but you turn the corner and now you're at a glass door again. The outside a void of darkness... night already... huh.
"Lead the way, Cookie."
The Detective said, pointing to the door.

"Cookie? I'm not your Cookie! I spent three weeks at culinary school! I earned the right to be called a chef!"
The Chef spat back at the Detective.

"I'm very impressed."
The Detective sarcastically retorted back.
"Just tell us where we're going. Come on! Let's go!"
The Detective sharply demanded, shoving the Chef closer to the doors. What an asshole, this damn Detective. The Chef opened the doors and led the Detective outside, you followed behind. It was dark outside, you can barely see anything, the lamps helped highlight where everything was, though not by much. The Detective grabbed something from his hip, probably a gun. The Detective glanced back at you.
"I think I see him."
The Detective said, looking forwards. You continued following the Detective, walking down steps behind him. As the Chef went left, the Detective drifted right. Gun pointed at a person with pale skin and messy ginger hair, digging in the dirt with a shovel. They wore a grey jumper and brown overalls with black wellies. So this was George?
"Hey! Buddy! Hands where I can see 'em!"
The Detectives said sharply, gun aimed at this George fellow.
"Hey, my hands are where they're supposed to be. Unless, of course, you'd like to dig the hole yourself."
George said simply, shoving his shovel into the dirt to leave it there as he talked.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"
The Detective asked sharply, gun still pointed.

"I'm the groundskeeper. I keep the ground, alright? I'd say look around. The ground is pretty well kept in this place, right?"
George sarcastically asked, unbothered by the gun.

"I'm sorry, man, this dick made me bring him out here."
The Chef apologised to George.

"You shut up. How do you not know about the murders—"
The Detective was interrupted by a thunder strike.
"going on in this house?"
The Detective finished sharply. Gun still pointed at George.
"How do you do hear that lightning?"
The Detective asked sharply.

"Lightning is the sky's business! Look at the ground! When the ground starts shooting up lighting, I'll let you know!"
George said simply... fair enough.

"Alright then, smartass, why exactly are you digging that hole? And why shouldn't we suspect you for taking part in the death of your employer?"
The Detective questioned, still sharply. George laughed... you remember this.

"Employers com and go! Some die, some don't, some are murdered, some are not. It's not my business! I'm digging this hole fora burst water pipe, if that's alright with your gracefulness!"
George said simply, gesturing to the hole behind him.

"See, I told you. George didn't do nothin', man."
The Chef stated, glaring at the Detective.

"See? I just did nothing."
George sarcastically retorted, the Detective lowered his gun finally.

"Forgive me for not taking you at face value. But we're all gonna come inside, we're gonna sit down, and have a nice lovely chat. And get to the bottom of this before I lose my mind, and start dabbling in murder myself!"
The Detective stated, putting his gun away. Thunderstruck from that word yet again.

"Now you listen to me, sonny. It's been fifteen years since I've been in that house. And I'm not about to break that winning streak now. I don't care how many murders there've been. I ain't going near that house! However, there is one reason. One incident. One manifestation. That will get me into that mad house."
George stated, pointing to the manor. You look at the Detective, he simply raised a hand. You look at the Chef, who was glaring daggers at you. Then back at George.
"You had better pray to God that that reason never comes to pass."
George said grimly...

Thunderstruck, a white light shined from behind you. You spun around. The inside of the manor was glowing, blasting white light outwards into the dark of night. What the fuck?!

"THAT THERE'S THE REASON!"
George exclaimed loudly, and started to bolt into the house. You follow behind... oh God, Jacob and Owen... what have they done?... thunderstruck again. The Detective pushed ahead, running up the stairs and over to the left.

"Go, go, go!"
The Detective exclaimed, gesturing you first up the stairs. You run straight ahead, catching a glimpse of the Colonel exiting his room in confusion. You run to the door of the occult room, only for it to be opened before you reach it. Owen stood there, his cardigan waving in the wind that blasted out. You fall to the floor. George was at the other side of the door, trying to push it to shut again.

"Somebody help me!"
George exclaimed. You stand up, your vision waving, for some reason- cyan started to for, around the edges of the doors, like glitches... the Hell? Owen gave you a malicious grin before the door was shut and the wind died down. The light faded away.

My God...

(He's waiting.)

(This series is not of my creation, the original concept is from Markiplier in his WHO KILLED MARKIPLIER? series. The credits for this creation go to him.)
(ORIGINAL VIDEO:

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