FEARED [II AU]

[17] | Unachieveable Euphoria

Baseball headed to the police station, silently. His eyes were dark, eyebags hollow. He walked in the station with Test Tube's crossbody bag, swiping in the keycard and entering inside. Inside, Lifering was still on the counter, chewing on donuts. It seemed like a cliche to Baseball, but he didn't bother to point it out. He set the bag on the counter and gazed at Lifering,

"I need all of the policies here, please." Baseball murmured.

Lifering raised an eyebrow at him, he wrote down on his clipboard, "For what?" He asked, grabbing his two-way radio (aka a 'walkie-talkie').

Baseball frowned, "It's about the case." He murmured, "He just murdered Test Tube."

Lifering's eyebrow rose, "So, it's a serious case then?" He grumbled, turning his radio on, "Everyone, come down the station, now. It's an emergency." He spoke firmly before turning it off again, "Go into the meeting room, most people will arrive soon. Be prepared to speak in a few minutes."

Baseball grabbed Test Tube's bag from the counter, heading to the meeting room. He hasn't presented in a while, and he still hated talking to a huge crowd. For whatever reason, when people would just solely focus on him, the eyes, the contact. Oh, he hated it a lot. He disliked eye contact, he always had.

He set the bag down on a large, circular table. Baseball got the papers that were shoved inside, any evidence he could gather from just her bag. He set them up with magnets against a whiteboard. Baseball was going to explain it all to the cops, and to finally catch Trophy. There was no way he could run now, especially not after killing an important detective as part of a police case.

Baseball flinched when he heard the door ring. He looked up from the papers. The first cop to arrive was Knife. He gazed at him silently, his heart slightly aching from his knowledge of a certain death. Silence filled the room, not even the sound of shuffling paper.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Knife snapped, crossing his arms.

Baseball quickly looked away, "Were you... friends with Test Tube?" He asked slowly, looking back down at her bag.

Knife narrowed his eyes, raising an eyebrow at him, "Yeah, why?" He answered sharply.

Baseball sat down on his chair, holding the back firmly in his hand, "She's dead."

Knife gazed at Baseball. Baseball could notice his muscles tensing. The atmosphere was thick, and unmoving. It felt like Knife was going to tackle him at any second.

"How did she die?" His voice was gruff, straining.

"She was murdered. Blood loss, the shots, many things caused her death." Baseball said softly. He saw Knife's hands clenched into fists.

"Who killed her?"

Baseball frowned, he glanced back at Knife, "Trophy."

Knife's expression turned into a snarl, he slammed his fist onto the table, "That fucking bastard!" He snapped, his face filled with rage, "I'll kill that fucker, I swear TO GOD!" He screamed, storming out the room.

Baseball's eyes widened in alarm, he quickly went after him, pulling him back into the room, "We can't just arrest him! We have to plan things out!" He countered, carrying Knife back into the room. Knife struggled against his restraint, his nails digging into Baseball's prosthetic arms. Baseball narrowed his eyes, he set Knife down on a chair, "Look, I know how much you want to beat him. Trust me, I've had those urges too." He grumbled.

Knife glared at him in response.

Baseball sighed, "We need to plan things out first. For all we know, he could still have a weapon with him. He always has that stupid pistol in his pockets." He looked away, "If anything, people could be around him as we speak." Baseball looked back at the white board behind him, "I don't want him to harm anyone else. Many people have already suffered by his hands, or.. rather, gun."