"So, these two were found at the last crime scene?" Rossi asked as he looked at the monitor that was displaying footage of the interrogation room in which a pair of teenagers in bloody clothing had been left. Since the small police station that was part of the town's city hall hadn't been equipped with an interrogation room, the local police had rigged a makeshift affair using an office with an iPhone that had been "left behind" by one of the officers serving as a camera. So fair, neither boy had so much as looked at the cell phone that was set up to record them. One of the boys was staring at his hands as if he'd never seen them before, while the other was agitatedly tapping out the peculiar four beat rhythm that had sparked so many conspiracy theories a few years back when everyone had started doing it, and just as suddenly stopped the day the British Prime Minister had assassinated the president. As the boy tapped out the rhythm, he alternated between doing so on the table and on his leg.
Rossi and his team had recently arrived in Contra Costa County to assist in the investigation of a string of particularly brutal murders that all appeared to be the work of a serial killer. The two boys that the local LEOs had found at the scene of the latest murder which had rocked the small town of Clayton as word got out on the news that the town had had its second murder in a decade looked far too young to fit the tentative profile that he and his team had built on the way, but there had been times when he'd been surprised, and children aren't as stupid or innocent as people generally wanted to think they were. Children, especially young adolescents like these boys, generally didn't think things through or plan something so...elaborate though.
Coming to a decision, he made his way to the interrogation room where the boys had been sitting while the officers tried to find and contact their parents, or barring that, contact someone who would give them permission to interrogate the boys who were obviously minors. Both boys looked to be roughly fourteen years of age. The boy who was tapping on the table who looked to have only just hit puberty had short black hair and pale eyes whose color he had seen was somewhere between blue and gray when the boy briefly turned towards the cell phone as his bored gaze had shifted around the room. The other boy whose hair was of a lighter shade and whose eyes were brown had his hair tied back in a short ponytail. The clothes the two boys were wearing were unusual to say the least, and it looked as if some of the articles of clothing they were wearing had been purchased at a shop that sold period costumes. He wondered who had done the work, since the accuracy of detail in the more anachronistic parts of their outfits was simply amazing. Amazing in a way which would cost a great deal of money, which meant that he and his team might get a clue to the boys' identities if they were less reticent about the source of their clothing than they were about who they themselves belonged to and where they lived.
The boy who was staring at his hands was wearing a coat that looked like it belonged on the set of a film like Pride and Prejudice, a white ruffled shirt that looked as if it had seen its heyday in the seventies, an honest to god cravat, and had his jeans tucked into a pair of over-sized riding boots that looked like they'd come from a cavalryman. The dark haired boy was wearing a black high-collared cape that looked like it belonged on a B-movie villain over an Eighteenth-century British Army officer's jacket that was much too big for him which was left open to display a black tee shirt that said something rude and somewhat vulgar in Russian, and while he was wearing a pair of modern Nike sneakers, he was also wearing a pair of breeches that looked like they matched the coat and a pair of stockings that were either black or a similarly dark color.
All in all, he didn't know what the clothes said about the children, aside from the fact that they had more than likely been engaging in a Live Action Role Playing game either of their or someone else's devising. If that was the case, there was a possibility that rather than having accidentally stumbled on the murder while it was taking place and interrupting the Unsub as it looked like may have happened considering the usual profile for the sort of person who generally committed this sort of crime, the murders may have been part of the boys' fantasy game. While the younger boy's near-catatonia could've been caused by stumbling upon a dying woman and watching her in her final moments, it could also have been caused by the reality of what he had done during a "game" hitting him after the deed was done. If the killing had been part of a LARP, it was possible that they weren't looking for a serial killer at all, but instead for a number of unsubs for whom causing death was part of their fantasy world.
When he entered the office cum interrogation room after shaking himself out of his musings, the lighter haired boy whose hair turned out to be more of a chestnut with faint red highlights than the medium brown the lighting and the poor camera angle had suggested did not react to his presence. The dark haired boy turned to him and gave him an annoyed glare that reminded him of a hawk that had had its feathers ruffled despite the pale color of his eyes however.
"Hello, I'm Special Agent David Rossi, and..." he started, not letting the look the darker haired boy was giving him unsettle him like it was meant to do. From what he could see, the boy had a tendency towards dominating others, and he wasn't about to let this little alpha male in the making win in any sort of power struggle with him.
"As I told the guards, it was already wounded when we found it." the dark haired boy in red and black said. "Release us so I can clean this...mess off of me. It reeks."
"I'm afraid I can't do that." he said, carefully noting the way the boy had said "it" rather than "she" in reference to the victim. Unless he was a complete sociopath, the boy was more than likely still playing the game he and his friend had been playing in order to mentally distance himself from the incident. Rather than comment on the boy's apparent lack of empathy, he decided to see if his being a federal agent would get an answer that the police couldn't tease from the boy. If the FBI's involvement didn't press upon the defiant teen that this was serious, nothing would. "Is there anyone we can contact? Parents? Guardians?" he asked.
"With your current level of technology, you won't be able to." the dark haired boy who was apparently the spokesperson for the two since he was the only one who currently seemed to be capable of speech said. "I'm sure someone will be along shortly, if only to pick up the capsule we stole."
Realizing that he wouldn't get anything more from the boy who was apparently still playing his fantasy game in order to cope with what he'd either seen or done, he turned to the boy who was staring brokenly at his hands.
"Are you alright?" he asked the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder in order to offer some comfort and possibly get him to talk.
The boy turned to look at him with haunted brown eyes.
"She died," the boy whispered. "I-I killed her. She died."
Edited 7-18-15.