Episode Four- Detective work

"This is serious guys," Lydia breathes, brows furrowed as she leans in, the whole group in a circle, muttering to one another.

"Lydia, I'm worried," Allison frowns and Scott puts a reassuring hand on Allison's shoulder.

"What if we don't find him?" Erica frowns and the question makes the whole room go quiet, the cameras focused on their backs as they stay huddled in a group.

"Don't think like that, we'll find him no matter what," Lydia breathes out, voicing her determenation and the whole group nods at that, this new found confidence buzzing through them.

"...What are you guys doing?" Boyd frowns as he looks at his friends, all of them in this weird sacrifical circle in the middle of the living room, turning on the light cause wtf were they standing in the dark for? At least it looks like their about to sacrfice something, all of them turning to look at Boyd and suddenly that: 'The-black-guy-dies -first' instinct starts to kick in and he should probably run.

"It's seven o'clock," Erica mumbles and yeah, he should really just not be here anymore.

"...So?" Boyd frowns and it's his curiosity that is going to probably get him killed.

"So? One of our own has gone missing!"

"Oh yeah, I think I saw Jackson kidn-"

"What? Not Jackson dude," Scott frowns, cutting Boyd off. "Derek, man! He hasn't come back," he finishes and it goes quiet at that as Boyd sort of just stands there and looks at all of them.

"Ugh, screw this! Let's go see where he is!" Erica rushes already rushing out of the room and Lydia is yelling at her about some sort of plan, but the others start to follow and soon it's just Boyd standing alone in the living room, but he hasn't moved, his face is still blank as ever as the camera slowly zooms in on him.

"So it's clear you know Stiles was kidnapped by Jackson... Why didn't you tell them?" The producer questions as Boyd sits down, the camera focused on him. He has this dead look in his eyes as if all day he's been dealing with stupid people and maybe he has.

"They were all in a circle in the dark which is highly suspect, not to mention I'm the only black person here," Boyd points out, slowly shaking his head. " So you tell me how to tell a bunch of crazies that they're wrong?"

"... Uhm... So- Well, how is it living with-"

"Hell,"

"You don't scare me one bit," Stiles breathes out, wincing slightly.

"Don't kid yourself Stiles, I will wreck you," Jackson grumbles, muttering something under his breath, this constant flicking sound in the air.

"Screw you, I'm not giving up,"

"Please don't, it'll make killing you all that much good'er,"

"The only one dying is- hold on what?" Stiles stumbles out, pausing the game, turning to look at Jackson who is scowling at him, wondering why the hell he paused the game. "First of all, you can't actually kill someone in WWE-"

"Fine, I'll pin you out or whatever, unpause the game," Jackson huffs, shaking his controller, Stiles face, but it's so obvious Stiles is not about to just sweep that dank grammar under the rug.

"Secondly, what the hell is good'er?" he frowns and now Jackson just rolls his eyes cause he honestly regretts even playing along with the trash talk. "Like I get you mean something like great or exceedingly good, but good'er isn't even a word,"

"Stiles,"

"Like why not just say better? It has the same amount of syallables so why? Just why?"

"... I won," Jackson mutters, this smug look on his face and Stiles pauses for a second, really soaking in what he was saying, slowly looking over at the tv. Jackson's chubby little wrestler walking around triumphantly with what was once Stiles' championship belt.

"Wait, how did you unpause the game?!" Stiles breathes out, this devestated look on his face as the camera zooms in on them.

"I did it when you were ranting," Jackson mutters simply and this silence falls on them as Stiles shoots him this murderous gaze.

"...Can I play?" The camerman mumbles, raising a shy hand as if he was that one kid at the back of the class who secretly ate glue. Stiles slowly turns to look at him and it wouldn't be surprising if he started to hiss.

"Never,"

"But-"

"Screw you Jeremy,"

Isaac lets out a yawn as he heads down stairs and into the kitchen, his camera man following close behind him. It was annoying at first, but he's gotten used to the constant camera up his ass. Of course that-

"Where did all the food go?" Isaac rushes as he opens he fridge, being met with cold air and an even colder disappointment as he stares at the relatively empty space. They had eggs and a gallon of orange juice. The hell is he suppose to do with that?

"Hey, what are we making for dinner?!" He calls out, sure someone will hear him, but he's only met with silence. He can practically hear the crickets laughing at him.

"Guys?" He frowns, slowly closing the fridge. "Guys!" He huffs, checking the livingroom, but it's empty.

"Hello, anyone here?" He calls out, calling up the stairs. "Erica...? Jackson?..." He's been all over the house, but there's no one around. He has literally checked everywhere-

"Hey, you didn't check the basement," His camera man mutters, pointing at the door that leads down to said basement and Isaac makes this contorted expression as if even mentioning that place has offended him.

"R-right... the basement," He mutters, trying to laugh off his uneasiness, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes and he'd honestly rather shit bricks for the rest of his life than to go down there. The entire house is freaking empty and the last thing he wants to be doing is going into some creepy basement where no one will hear him scream- not that he would do something so uncool.

"Are you going or...?" His camera man mutters and Isaac slowly inches away, fishing out his phone.

"Actually, I think I'll order a pizza,"

"I just suddenly felt like having pizza," Isaac laughs off, eyes not meeting the camera as he sits there. The producer staring at him.

"...sure,"

" So Stiles," the producer begins, Stiles sitting in the chair, eyes focused on something off camera.

"What's up?" Stiles humms, looking at him expectantly.

"Why did Jackson kidnap you?" he questions and Stiles pauses at that. He has this smile on his face but his eyes are unfocused and it's clear there is a lot going up in that mind of his. "You don't know...do you?"

"... Let me get back to you on that?" Stiles breathes, slowly moving to stand and walking off screen. "Jackson?"

"Hey so uhm... this is totally random or whatever but.. why did you kidnap me and tie me to a chair?" Stiles mutters, turning to look at Jackson who has this 'oh shit' look on his face as if he wasn't expecting that question to come up.

"Well, actually, that's becuase..." He drawls out and Stiles hates the suspense. It's overkill.

"Oh Jackson, when did you get here? What're you doing in the basement," A woman's voice sounded and now Stiles is turning to see a middle aged woman coming down the stairs.

"Oh hey mom," Jackson breathes moving to stand and Stiles kind of sits there because there are so many questions he has. Like for starters, why the hell does this basement look like a luxury hotel room? And how the hell did his mom not notice him come in the house with a kidnap victim!?

"Hi... Mrs. Whittemore...?" Stiles mutters awkwardly and Jackson sort of just rolls his eyes at him.

"Oh you brought a friend to help too? That's wonderful!" She beams and now Stiles is ten levels of confused.

"Help?" He laughs awkwardly, staring at Jackson now and the dirty blonde just has this look on his face like he doesn't have a clue what's being said. Total bullshit.

"He kidnapped me so that I would have to clean the garage with him!" Stiles breathes out, eyes wide with disbelief as he stares around the room, silently begging for someone to save him. "Do you know how much crap was in there?! I mean, there is still a dust bunny in there from 1995! That's how hellish that garage was," Stiles breathes out and he feels like crying.

"Stiles?" The producer trails and Stiles slowly shakes his head.

"I quit,"

"You can't... You signed a contract,"

"Then I quit the contract!"

"You can't-" Stiles puts up a finger, silencing the producer, his eyes narrowing, lips pursed.

"Watch me," Stiles hisses, the camera zooming in on him.

Isaac was sitting there in the kitchen, eating a slice of pizza, the only company he had was his camera man. He really wanted to talk to someone, but what do you say to someone who greets you in the morning with a camera in your face?

"..." Nothing. You say nothing. Isaac was just sitting there, eating his pizza, minding his own business, and maybe he was having a conversation with himself in his head, but he was sitting at the perfect angle that he had a clear view of the basement door and so when he saw the knob turn, watched the door open, and saw Derek come walking out of said basement, he didn't freak. Under no means did he freak out.

"... D-Derek?" He mutters, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at his alpha and one of the cameras slowly zooms in on Derek because there is something really wrong with this picture. There's this red substance that stains the front of his tank top and he has this hammer in his hand and Isaac just sits there, mid bite, watching the way Derek looks at him, this permanent scowl on his face.

"Is... Is that..." Isaac trails off, unable to finish his question and now they are just staring at each other and Isaac faintly debates screaming for help but then Derek quietly closes the door behind him and starts heading for the stairs, disappearing from Isaac's sight and the beta kind of just sits there, listening to the footsteps heading up the stairs, this blank look on his face.

"Isaac?" the producer mutters, the studio quiet.

"Isaac?"

"Why the heck did I even go? Searching the woods was a waste of time!" Erica huffs out as she walks into the house, the rest of the group following behind her.

"Maybe if you actually waited and thought out a plan like I was saying-"

"Yeah, yeah, what kind of plan would you have? Put a dollar on the ground and hide behind a bush?" Erica snips, cutting off Lydia and the strawberry blond just stares at her for a second, wondering how it is that they ever got along.

"Guys, stop fighting already. It's hurting my ears," Allison sighs, rubbing her temples.

"Yeah, you guys have been fighting non- Oh hey Isaac!" Scott mutters as he walks into the kitchen, seeing Isaac sitting there, just staring at his half eaten pizza. "Awesome, pizza!" Scott beams, grabbing a slice as the others start flooding into the kitchen.

"Hey..." Isaac mutters and he honestly sounds like someone just murdered his dog right in front of him, but the others don't notice, too busy focusing on the fact that there is pizza.

"Where could he even have gone?" Erica huffs, stuffing her face with pizza.

"Who knows... Actually, I've been thinking," Allison drawls, pulling this thoughtful expression as if she may have th solution for world peace. "What if Derek has a double life?" she questions and now everyone is looking at her, even Isaac who up until now was like a mannequin.

"What?" Lydia frowns, and the brunette shrugs.

"I mean like, what if he had a secret life. Maybe he has a job he can't talk about?"

"Hmm... maybe... but he doesn't take his car..." Lydia frowns and Scott jumps in at that.

"He could run!" He interjects and Lydia just stares at him. It was a stupid point, but it could be possible. But she wasn't about to accept that and risk giving him some sort of unwarranted confidence. The last thing anyone needed was for Scott to actually think he was smart.

"Uh... maybe he's a stripper," Erica hummed, clearly being sarcastic, but Allison didn't pick up on it. Of course.

"He strips from 3 to 6? I mean he's even gone on the weekdays. People don't go to strip clubs on weekdays... do they?" Allison frowns and Lydia slowly narrows her eyes at that.

"I like how that is what you're concerned about and not the fact that Derek and stripper were used in the same sentence," Lydia mutters and Allison blushes at that, making Erica roll her eyes at that. The hell is she embarrased about?

"Maybe he's a serial killer," Isaac mumbles quietly and everyone pauses at that, looking at him.

"Nah," It's a chorus of denial as they all shoot him down and Isaac can only sit there, looking dejected. If only they saw what he saw.

"... Hey has anyone seen Stiles?" Lydia frowns, as she looks around the room. She thought it was weird that she didn't have a headache by now and sure enough, the spazzed out teen was nowhere to be seen.

"Now that you mention it... Jackson isn't around either..."

"One word," Scott breathes, staring into the camera, leaning forward in his chair. "Alien abduction,"

"... Scott, that's two words," The producer sighs, running a hand over his face.

"oh.."

"You know, it was just a joke and all, but... Derek as a stripper?" Erica mutters, draping her leg over the arm of the chair, getting comfortable as the camera slowly zoomed in on her. "You couldn't be mad at that,"

"They say stripper and think 'oh yeah, possible'," Isaac breathes, holding out a hand as if to represent one side. " On the other hand, I say 'killer' and all of a sudden I'm the one being unrealistic," he scoffs, shaking his head.

"Wait, do you think he was killing someone in the basement?" The producer questions and Isaac just stares at the camera for a second.

"His camera guys go missing and he just happens to have red all over his shirt? You tell me,"

"Seriously, has anyone seen my friend?" Scott frowns, looking around the studio. "Stiles?"

"Like I said," Boyd mutters, frowning at that camera. "Idiots,"