A couple of weeks had passed since Alfred gave him 24/7 access to his life and not much changed. Matthew scheduled his walks for the afternoon and arrived home in time for dinner - which he still shared with his talkative roommate, who described his heroic feats of looking after drunkards and making sure they got home before they were 'targeted'. Alfred was desperately leaning into the internet theory that the Trail Killer went after people who were drunk and therefore 'easy'. Matthew didn't point out that Arthur was sober and just continued to eat while Alfred talked at him, rather than with him. He'd been doing a lot of that recently.

After dinner, his roommate's shift started and Alfred left through the front door to go hunt down the Trail Killer. Matthew said nothing as he left and cleaned up from dinner while wondering if Alfred thought the streets were inherently safer because he was walking them. He probably did. He probably convinced himself that he could make a difference. He made sure Matthew knew that he was prepared to fight the Trail Killer and boasted about how he'd do it. Alfred would forget to chew as he got carried away giving a play-by-play telling Matthew exactly where he'd swing his baseball bat at that 'son -or daughter!- of a bitch.'

Once Matthew's obligations were taken care of, he'd crash into his bed and stalk Alfred's location from his phone. Throughout the weeks he had mapped out all of Alfred's routes and timed them. It wasn't long before Alfred became predictable and Matthew would be able to map out his location even without the tracker. His paths did vary, but it started to make sense and was forseeable.

It wasn't long before Matthew felt comfortable edging towards Alfred's territory. The wide berth in his mind slowly shrunk and the streets he could roam became bigger. Nothing was off limits anymore. He could go where he wanted and whenever he pleased. If he happened to be on the streets at the same time as Alfred, he didn't have to worry about crossing paths.

Tomorrow night, he would walk out the front door after Alfred had left and he would continue his hunt and leave another mark on the world.

Mornings passed as normal, only now Alfred was a little more open about the effects of his not-so-secret nightly activities. He would drink twice as much coffee and hogged a shelf in the fridge to store his energy drinks. How long until Alfred crashed and burned? Matthew never said anything, even when it looked like his roommate was trying to attract attention so Matthew would question him and he could share his heroic adventures. No matter how Alfred would talk at him, Matthew kept his eyes glued to his phone and tuned him out. He didn't have the mental capacity that Alfred demanded he loan. Now more than ever, the weight of the emotional labour he performed for his brother for the entirety of his life was starting to finally crush him.

But this morning, Matthew must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed. That or not stalking the streets at night how he pleased had finally caught up to him. He was sick of feeling like he was cornered and he was hoping to never feel that way again.

Alfred was 'talking to himself' and running unnecessary commentary about whatever menial thing he was doing. Matthew knew damn well that if he wasn't in the room then Alfred wouldn't be 'talking to himself', proving that Alfred was trying to get attention. Matthew tried to tune him out but found that he just couldn't. His lip curled up in annoyance as Alfred droned on and occupied Matthew's mental space against his will.

"Why are you still talking?" Matthew stated as he glared from his phone. Alfred gave him a smile that made him sick.

"Um, because I can? Am I not allowed to talk to myself?"

Matthew's eyes bore into him as if he could kill him by staring hard enough. Fury raged inside him as he sat perfectly still and he thought about giving in and screaming.

But arguing was pointless. Alfred was fucking stupid and stubborn. Matthew would never get him to change. He wanted to save himself the trouble of trying, of making his voice raw by arguing back and Alfred just nonchalantly brushing him off even though he can see how much he was pissing Matthew off-

Matthew just wanted to make Alfred hurt as much as he hurt. He wanted to punish him.

And he had an idea.

Tonight he was finally going to get back on the streets after dark and he was looking forward to it. He could hardly sit still or keep a smile off his face as he thought about what he was going to do to commemorate such an occasion.

He made dinner, as usual, only this time he served one plate. When Alfred came in, he took it and sat on the couch without even noticing. He turned on the TV and a minute passed before he realised that Matthew wasn't coming and turned to see where he was. Now it was time for Matthew to act.

"I'm not feeling too well," Matthew said, his voice faint and strained as he leaned heavily on the counter. "Um, can you please put dinner away and clean up? I'm going to go to bed... Please don't disturb me."

"Uhh okay," Alfred looked concerned as he put his plate down slowly and made to stand up. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Matthew quickly reassured. The last thing he needed was for Alfred to step up and look after him. "I just didn't drink a lot of water today and now I have a migraine. I'm just going to sleep it off. Please don't worry about me. Just be safe when you go out tonight."

"I'm always safe," Alfred grabbed his plate and kept eating. "Goodnight bro. I hope you feel better tomorrow."

"Night," Matthew said and shut the door to his room, flicking the lock as he dropped his facade. He changed his clothes and put on a surgical mask, just to be safe. It had been a while since he'd been out at night and he was just a little nervous, although he knew he shouldn't be. He was the reason people were nervous, but he couldn't afford to drop his guard. The city had a different vibe at night and even though he never stopped roaming around, from his afternoon walks he could tell that attitudes had shifted.

Without a second thought, he grabbed the backpack from beside his bed and put it on before leaving through his window. There were people out and about, but it seemed that there was a lingering tension. People walked with a purpose and there weren't as many people just loitering about like Matthew had seen before. The confirmation of the Trail Killer had changed the attitude of the whole city and Matthew was both bewildered and honoured that he was the cause of this.

He quickly approached one of the areas Alfred usually patrolled and walked straight into it. It wasn't an area that Alfred would head to first, but one that he always passed through at some point during his patrols. It was an industrial area with a few bars in between. There were plenty of alleyways winding between wide and empty roads. It was only a couple of blocks away from the big forest park but the few people that were around were completely unbothered, loitering and chatting completely carefree.

Matthew stuck to the shadows as his eyes scanned around. He moved slowly now, sure that this was his area to strike. He avoided every camera he could see and even where he was sure cameras would be even if he couldn't see them. During his afternoon walks, his mind wasn't so focused on murder but more on the logistics. Like where cameras were always placed. After observing so many it was second nature to avoid them.

He had his back against a wall as he peered out from the narrow opening and into the alley across the street. He was just keeping his eyes peeled for anyone, nobody specific, but someone who was alone and in a convenient area. He was determined to kill again tonight.

His heart jumped to his throat when metal grated behind him and he whipped his head around to see someone had come out of the door behind him. He was frozen as he watched, afraid to move and make himself known before he could gauge the situation. It was a woman with long silvery hair tied up in a ponytail with a pale blue bow. She was facing away from him and hadn't noticed him yet. She was lugging a garbage bag to the dumpster and once she put it in she'd presumably turn around and see Matthew. He had to make a choice and make it now. Either he left before she saw him... or he had just found his perfect target. All he had to do was get a clear shot of her neck without risking touching her and he would be successful.

His hand played with the switchblade in his pocket as he tip-toed forward and peeked inside the still-open door. It looked just like a cluttered warehouse full of storage units and he couldn't see or hear anyone inside. He pushed the door shut with his shoe, causing her to snap around and look at him. Her eyes narrowed as she tossed the bag in the dumpster, completely unbothered at not being alone.

"What are you doing here?" She said with such animosity that it took him by surprise. His heart stilled instinctually and his brain was searching for why she wouldn't like him. It ticked him off. It shouldn't matter if she liked him or not and he was sick of giving up so much of himself to try and make people care. Her abrupt attitude just told him he made the right choice in picking this person.

He had no idea how to respond and he quickly racked his brain for an answer that would lower her guard and give him an opportunity.

"I'm just walking around," he shrugged, grimacing at his weak and questionable response.

"Sure you are," she glowered and crossed her arms like she'd caught him. "You're here to bother my brother, aren't you?"

What?

"...Your brother?" He prompted, hoping he could get more information.

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Why do you insist on playing stupid? If you're here to bother Ivan he left half an hour ago."

Matthew wasn't stupid. This had happened so many times in his life that he just knew it was happening again. It happened with Lovino too. Why was this becoming a pattern? She thought he was Alfred, didn't she?

Actually, this was perfect. His victims thought he was someone they knew and trusted meant they lowered their guard without him having to do anything.

"Dang, I was hoping to scare him," Matthew jested as he loosened his posture and a smile naturally came to his face.

This was perfect, actually. Tonight's commemoration couldn't go any better. He wanted to punish his brother by making him find whoever he chose to kill, so not only would he feel helpless as he stumbled upon the body, but if the body was another one of his friends? Perfect...

It seems that his victims had something in common beyond being questionable people. Being friends with Alfred made you a target. Maybe Alfred would start to blame himself, but Matthew really couldn't see that happening. He'd only see it as a coincidence but he'd be hurt all the same.

"You would not have been successful," the woman stated as if it was a fact. It very well could've been. Matthew knew of Ivan from Alfred ranting about him that Alfred was bothered by Ivan's unbotheredness. Once Ivan came to their house and treated him like he was nothing the entire time, at one point Ivan sat on him and pretended he didn't notice his chair was squirming and trying to shove him off. Alfred never said anything about the bullying. Surprising, considering how much he likes to think of himself as a hero and peacemaker.

He could just tell that this woman was close to Ivan and Matthew could only hope that Ivan loved his sister just as much. He couldn't have come across a better person. It seemed that by killing this woman he was killing two birds with one stone.

"Yeah, good thing that's not what I was here to do," Matthew said as he lunged forward with the blade and dragged it across her neck. She reacted and tried to stop him, but was too slow as blood sprayed on the wall beside them and he narrowly avoided her retaliation as he jumped backwards. Her eyes were full of murderous intent as she didn't even try to stop the bleeding, instead putting all her efforts into grabbing him as she unsteadily pounced forward. A distorted guttural growl was ripped from her throat as she tried to wrap her hands around his neck. He darted to the side to avoid her and jammed his shoulder against the brick wall. She tried to quickly pivot but tripped and slammed into the ground. Even then she didn't give up and she tried to use the wall to stand again. But she was swaying like a stick bug in the breeze and Matthew cautiously watched with his knife posed as she went to stand but crumpled with a wheeze. Her eyes never lose her defiant hate as they lock onto Matthew's. She returned his gaze with a carefully guarded stare.

"It's nothing personal," he says as if it would help. He doesn't even know her name, it's just the thrill of killing and the want to punish that drives him. He could've picked anyone tonight and would've been happy if Alfred found them. "I'm the Trail Killer."

With the last of her strength, she threw her hand towards him, fingers positioned as if claws and she grated them along the ground like she was trying to pull herself closer. Matthew wondered why she was fighting so hard, though it could've just been instinctual. Some people were just built to be strong and others were just weak. He detested that the world saw him as the latter all because of his demeanour. No one knew that when tested he would pass with flying colours.

But he wanted them to know. The whole internet knew and the city was waking up to it.

Matthew continued to stare at the woman, now unmoving but her eyes stayed fixed on him. Her eyelids fluttered minutely and there was still a light behind them. He watched it extinguish.

He pocketed the knife and shrugged the backpack off, taking out the jumper inside and sliding it over his damp shirt. There was a pair of sweatpants that he slid over his now sticky jeans. There was nothing he could do for his shoes but he covered most of the incriminating evidence so he would just have to hope no one noticed. He used cleaning wipes to scrub his hands before tossing them in the backpack and putting it back on. He sighed and cast one last look back at the woman.

The position she was slumped in would be really uncomfortable if she were alive. Matthew felt sorry for her but knew better than to move her. Touching would only leave evidence. With a satisfied feeling of accomplishment and swelling excitement for what was surely to come, he eagerly made his way home.