Redtown 487

Murmurs of Crimson Death

"The Dog Did Nothing. 'That was the Curious Incident,' Remarked Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure of Silver Blaze, Arthur Conan Doyle.

Tommy heard the knock on his door, and he prayed it wasn't Wilbur. He couldn't find any proper words to say to him. All he could think of was throwing his fist in his jaw.

Tommy peaked through the eyehole and noticed a familiar gold-rimmed cap and let out a sigh. Perhaps Fundy wasn't much better. Tommy wasn't exactly thrilled with his opinions either, but nonetheless, Tommy remained composed and opened the door.

"Fundy? What are you doing here?"

"I kinda followed you here," Fundy shrugged.

"Why is that?" he asked between his teeth.

"I'm worried about you, Tommy," Fundy answered. "May I come in?"

Tommy hesitated. He had no interest in hearing Fundy's words but found himself nodding his head as he closed the door behind him.

"Why are you worried? I'm fine."

Fundy rolled his eyes.

"You're not. After everything with Tubbo, you seem very upset."

Tommy looked away. Of course he was upset; he couldn't help but feel anger and guilt crawl up his spine. The way Tubbo's terrified eyes stared back at him under his blooded hair ... he couldn't get it out of his head.

"Why are you upset that we found the killer? I mean, case closed. It's a good day when you can say that," Fundy shrugged.

"I looked him in the eye and promised him I would help him. And look what good I did. I mean, he was like my best friend throughout high school. College came around, and I didn't talk to him for so many years. I guess I felt guilty, I knew what situation he might be in, and I did nothing. This time I told myself to finally be there for him, and now he's in a cell."

"It's not your fault, really. You can't blame yourself for what you did in the past. Just don't let it cloud your judgment," Fundy replied.

Tommy nodded. For a moment, he realized that Fundy was right. His head felt stuck in a haze, unable to see past the fuzzy cotton balls that stuffed his mind. Maybe he did need to yank his head out and see things for what they are. Maybe he was wrong.

Through the fuzz, he heard his phone ring. Wilbur's name spread across the screen, and every part of him told him to ignore it. Wilbur didn't deserve that, and Tommy had to remind himself to stay professional.

"Hey, Wilbur. I don't know if now's a good time-"

"Tommy, it wasn't Tubbo," Wilbur interrupted.

There was a suspicious panic in his voice.

"Oh, okay. Now you believe me," Tommy spat.

"No, you don't understand. Is Fundy with you?"

"Um, yeah? Why?" Tommy replied.

"Get out. Now. He killed them."

The fuzzy haze in his mind quickly turned into a raging storm. Lightning sparked from his eye as thunder roared from the sudden pressure from his chest.

"What do you mean it's-"

Tommy trapped Fundy's name in his mouth. He realized he had made a grave mistake letting the storm push out of his mind. He looked at Fundy with utter panic and disbelief. Fundy replied with cold, predatory eyes, knowing Tommy had figured it out. He moved with sharp and staggered movements as he pulled a familiar knife from his coat. The memory of a similar, larger knife in Tubbo's hand came back to Tommy.