Icky: sorry this is so fucking late...I'm just going to combine my first four chapters into one. I also got really sucked into my Itacest fic
He smirked and wiped the blood off his hands, why are all these people so gullible?, and stretched his back. Sure, the press knew about the esteemed killer, but it wasn't helping his case. Alfred Jones was a copycat killer. A copycat to whom? Ivan "Knife Master" Braginski, not that anyone knew his name, that is. Of course, they were in different countries, but their killings made world news; slowly growing close to the popularity of Jack the Ripper
Beside the point, Alfred took an empty quill pen, dipping it in whoever diplomat's blood he'd just killed, and began to write on nearby paper; Well hello again Master, I do so hope you are watching the news today, because surely this will be on it! I've come to reply to your messages without writing on walls, hence it takes to much blood and too much time for my taste. No, I have never used a bread knife to do mutilation, but it's on my agenda (it was quite the idea on your part) and dismemberment sounds very fun. I will wait for your reply, Student.
Quickly washing the pen and his hands clean, he quickly checked around to make sure no hairs or his own blood was at all traceable, "well, it looks alright," shrugging, he left his work to be found.
"This is bloody crazy!" the Englishman shouted to his crime scene partner, "how did he even get the dip' up there?" everyone who came to investigate was staring up at the man on the tacked to the ceiling by large katanas, that were presumably owned by the Japanese diplomat.
"Well," the other sighed, walking over crime scene tape that had been set up earlier, "He seems to have left that Russian man another letter. Arthur, I think the main question is how are we going to get him down." The Frenchman plucked the letter from the fishing wire it was hung from and walked over to the forensic while Arthur thought it through, "well...I guess we could call in your German friend and ask for a lift." he leaned his head back and grimaced, "ugh, don't make that a guess. Someone call Francis's friend before I throw up." after walking out, most everything was silent except for Mathieu's typing and Francis calling up his German friend. After the main set of reporters had left, a horn honked from down the street and Mathieu spoke up, "you better not've called my boyfriend. You know what Arthur gets like around him Francis." he stood up and walked outside.
They were the only three left at the scene; Francis making calls to other investigators, informing the press people who called, Arthur surveying and trying to figure out how "The Student" had gotten in, and Mathieu dealing with all the blood and guts. "Non, I called mine, of course," Francis smirked and walked to the end of the cobbled driveway, waving down the road towards the large truck that was coming down the street. "Arthur, lift's here!" Mathieu called over his shoulder; he could hear the Englishman running from the back and slowing down as he came to the edge of the yard, "Gilbert?" the truck stopped, and both doors opened. The two burly Germans stepped out and glanced around, the taller spotting Francis and walking over, "hallo liebe, I hope you don't mind I brought mein bruder along. Neither of the Vargas boys were there today, und I don't trust him at the shoppe alone." The Frenchman sighed, "nor do I trust Mathias alone at the station, luckily Antonio came back from sick leave yesterday. I hope you two didn't eat before hand."
Gilbert by then had unhooked the lift and driven it over to the house, stopping by Mathieu and Arthur on the way. He hopped out of the large bleu vehicle and gave Mathieu a brief kiss on the cheek, "und how is mein birdy?" the Canadian rolled his eyes, "a little pissed that Feli or Lovi wasn't there so I wouldn't have to deal with you, but I'll have to get used to it if your brother is my boss's go-to guy, eh?" Arthur on the other hand was blushing jealously, trying not to glare at them. "Well, I'd better get this in-" "it's pretty messy Gil, drive slow." Mathieu stepped back, almost running into Arthur as Gilbert drove through the oversized doors, without scratching them, "mein gott!" he shouted. Ludwig and Francis had made their way over, and the latter chuckled, "the scent, the guts, or where he ended up?" he shouted back, getting a gagging sound as a response, Mathieu sighed and went in after him. Ludwig turned to Francis, "do you two need any more help? I'll be happy to do any heavy lifting," he smiled a little, and Francis coughed, "I think Arthur just needs to finish surveying...I could use some help with the paperwork back in my office, and I'm pretty sure Matt can keep Gil under control if you wanted to come back with moi," Ludwig blushed a little and nodded, and Arthur just sighed, "Francis, get some actual paperwork done as well, and not just screw around...literally." He stalked off grumbling as the other two snuck back to the Frenchman's car.
The Russian man snorted, pausing his television to read the letter from his "Student", I guess it does take a lot of blood...where you learned calligraphy, I may never know. He stood up and stretched, turning off the blaring screen and turning back to the victim chained to his wall, "I was never here, da?" before slicing the knife up the poor man's stomach, which resulted in a muffled scream.
Hours passed as Ivan dismembered the other slowly, hiding them throughout the house, and ending with the head at the door stating Let's Play Hide and Seek! He then turned his attention to writing back to the man that admired him most. Taking up an old piece of paper and a nearby ink pen, he began to write, Yes, my dear student, it is always wonderful to hear from you. I do believe it does waste some blood, but in the long run, it is almost always worth it. Ah, mutilation, I did forget! I guess I will leave you to do it, but yes, dismemberment is very fun, as you can see. I wait for your next comments, Knife Master.
He smiled at his work, cleaning off any hair or fingerprints that could've been left behind before leaving the scene and into the dark night.
Gilbert sighed, stretching an arm around his boyfriend, "your bruder's obsession with this Russian guy is out of control, you know." Alfred was obsessively watching the news, waiting patiently for the "Knife Master" update. Mathieu sighed, "I don't even know anymore, he just seems to love murder investigations...maybe that's why he's a first-round cop, eh?" Alfred jumped up, eyes still glued to the TV, "He's on, he's on!" his brother sighed again, "we might as well leave now, he'll be sitting in that chair rewatching the news for an hour. I bet your brother's not too busy, eh?" Gilbert coughed, and Mathieu got the drift, "well, let's just go wander, Al, we'll be back in an hour, do something productive." They padded out of the door, leaving Alfred to his note-taking.
After rewinding the programme for about the eighth time, the blond cop got everything he thought he could out of the blaring screen, stacking up a few more papers to add to his collection, I wonder if I have enough money saved up yet to fly over...I bet he's waiting on me...he took the idea of dis- "Alfred!" the door opened, causing the American to scramble to his desk, "y-yeah Matt?" Mathieu dropped a few bags on the front table and walked over to him, "get anything done besides obsess over that Russian?" the other didn't move, and Mathieu sighed, "just get some of your papers done, eh? Francis is probably prepared to downgrade you anyway." he began to pack things up, and Alfred headed back to his room, carefully planning what he would do next.
Lovino glared at the notes in front of him, "this doesn't make any fucking sense!" he slammed his hands on the table, causing his brother to jump, "f-fratello! what is it-a now? Are you still mad that-a you can't crack his code?" the younger Italian bounced over, standing next to his fuming sibling, "obviously! No one else has figured it out yet Feliciano, and being head detective means I'm the one who has to do it!" he stood up harshly, and the other stepped aside before trotting back into the kitchen, "Feli, I'm going to my office, don't fuck the kitchen up too much while I'm gone," "Well at least get-a something to eat first." Lovino huffed, grabbed his papers and walked off to the dark office grumbling.
He shifted in his seat, glaring at the man lecturing in front of him, then towards the small clock in the room, c'mon, c'mon...this is the perfect time to go after him! Just finish the- "Jones!" the American snapped to attention looking into pale green eyes that were glaring back at him, "you really do need to pay more attention, and we all know in the news that that Russian man hasn't bloody done anything else. So unless it's actually important you need to leave, pay attention!" Al rolled his eyes, he knew this too, of course, and everything else about what was going on. Mathieu was making him retake basic training for whatever reason, not that it was doing anything to 'better his attention' it was just boring him to death, much like the first time. The bell rang and he bolted out of the room, almost forgetting his bag, but was stopped in the hall by his boss, "S-sorry dude-" "Alfred, what's going wiz you?" Francis put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from leaving, "n-nothing sir! Just, got some papers I need to finish." he shook a little, slowly calming down, "are you sure? Your brother's been saying otherwise. And you haven't finished zose papers? It's been over a week, Al." the Frenchman looked at him with worry, and Alfred shrugged his hand off, "dude, it's fine. I just haven't turned them in yet, and I was headed home to do that before you stopped me." Francis sighed, and walked around him, mumbling in vague French. Alfred let out a sigh of relief, and headed back out towards his car.
The Eastern European man screamed, but it was muffled by the cloth in his mouth, "ya' know this'd be so much easier if you stopped squirming so much," Alfred pulled the large serrated knife from where it was on the other man's arm, blood dripping everywhere. He was covered in cuts and gashes from different devices, bleeding out slowly onto the floor, "ugh, I'll just kill you know and mutilate you afterward," the other's eyes went wide, tears streaming down his face as the other sliced his neck quickly. It only took a few moments for the room to go silent, and Alfred sighed, taking up the calligraphy pen again and began to write Sorry for the wait sir, I've been quite busy lately planning for my next...well...'treat' for you. Sorry to take your idea of mutilation right away, but I didn't have the tools to dismember him this time, and it seemed like fun, even though he squirmed too much for my taste. I await your reply faithful Master, Student.
"He's getting hell of a lot messier, but still cleaning up his tracks," Lovino grumbled, getting down on his knees to inspect the deceased man. "How do we know it's even the same person any more? Serial killers do sometimes have more than one admirer," Mathieu muttered, slowly picking up the knives that were set around quite neatly, "but I think this one's just in it for the thrill of the kill." The killer himself, still completely off the suspect list, smirked from the shadows, then stepped forward, "so, have we moved onto the threat of having two major killers around here?" The Italian nodded from where he was sitting, then stood up and turned around, "you know everything about this Knife Ba-" Mathieu scoffed, glaring at him, "Knife Master right? Well, if our guy's a copycat, he's thinking like the Russian guy...and we're gonna need you to actually do something to solve this case." the last part came out as more of a grumble, turning back towards the younger Canadian, "I'm calling my fratello in, he and the other guys should be able to clean most of this up," Lovino walked out of the large room, grumbling, leaving the brothers by themselves, Mathieu spoke up, "one of them is you, eh?" Alfred froze, and tried to walk away, but Mathieu turned around and glared at him, "I caught your prints at the last scene, and rubbed them off quickly. You're lucky I still care for you Al," he sighed, "you're going to have to leave the country soon," Alfred couldn't move, I thought I had kept everything clean! I did everything he did in the other letters...what am I missing? What am I missing?! Mathieu had grabbed him by the shoulders, and was looking into the blank bleu eyes, "wake up from your day dream, hoser, you're packing your bags tonight, and we'll see if we can get you out of here."
Alfred squirmed in his window seat, looking around at the people their bags in the compartments above him. Mathieu nudged him in the side, "calm down, if you're like this for the rest of the trip, we'll never get to Russia before you have a breakdown. The older brother nodded, in a few minutes drifting off to sleep after the flight took off.
Something shook his arm, and he groaned rolling over as best he could in the cramped airplane seat, "Jones!" the American groaned again, "fuck off Matt..." "Alfred we have a connecting flight!" Al shot up from his seat, making a choking noise when he hit the seat belt, "well not right now. At the moment, we're twenty minutes from the airport in Munich." Coughing a few more times, Alfred caught his breath to glare at his brother, "you could've let me sleep five more minutes. Also, how are we supposed to navigate a German airport?" he crossed his arms. Mathieu sighed, "how do you think?"
"Well I don't know, neither of us speak German!"
"And you're so sure about that, eh?"
"I took one semester of German in the tenth grade, and you expect me to remember it?"
"Obviously not," he chuckled, "where do you think Gilbert's accent comes from?"
"Well, it's German, obviously,"
Mathieu glared at him,"hoser, he's from Germany,"
Alfred made an 'o' shape with his mouth,"This helps how then? He's not with us."
"He taught me some basic phrases before we left, dummkopf." The plane rattled a little bit, and the pilot announced they'd be in some partial turbulence before they landed, and Mathieu went back to the book he'd been reading previously and Alfred stared out the window at the suburban area below.
After the long stretch of running from one side of the virtually empty airport to the other. The brothers caught their breath in the waiting seats near the plane tunnel. Alfred squirmed a little in the, once again, uncomfortable chairs, and his stomach rumbled, "Ma-att-" "Alfred, we're not getting something to eat just yet. Besides, nothing's open at four in the morning." Alfred sighed, stretching out his arms for a few more minutes before looking over at his brother, "so, what's the latest gossip over at Gilbert and Ludwig's garage?" Mathieu glared up from the thick paperback, which he seemingly pulled out of thin air, "Apparently Antonio's attempts to seduce Lovino didn't work, Gilbert dropped a dull bell on his foot, and the Italian brothers are together," he looked back down to the book, while Alfred could only try and process what he'd said, "The Italians? You mean that bouncy-as-fuck one and Lovino the Italians?" His brother nodded absentmindedly, still very absorbed in his book to really care, "aren't they like, brothers?" Mathieu nodded again, "you have to remember that the Beilschmidts were together before, and Francis tried bu-" "I've already heard how that turned out!" Alfred covered his ears, again not wanting to hear about his brother's love life. Yet a small part of him enjoyed it; helping his little brother deal with Gilbert, made him feel like a stereotypical hero.
A few hours of falling asleep back and forth, watching random people look at them from afar, and Alfred trying not to beg for food, the brother's plane finally arrived; hours late because it got caught in the strong winds blowing over Berlin. Quickly running over to the best spot they could muster, they managed to get on the large jet in record time, even though they were in the very back of the plane itself, and had to stumble over chairs to reach their seats. By the time they were in the air, the city lights had slowly begun to turn off in Munich, hence the rising sun. Mathieu had fallen asleep once again, while Alfred looked out the small oval-shaped window, why am I even doing this? Matt would've never turned me in...I could've stayed in the US!
