It might've been a little too early for Matthew to be stalking the streets, but the restlessness inside of him demanded he get moving. Considering it was only just around dinner time, there were plenty of people about, wandering around in an unhurried but aware pace. Though their awareness was likely just street smarts - something much more common now than ever thanks to his work.
He walked through some side streets in one of the less-than-desirable areas. If it wasn't for his newfound confidence, he'd be worried about being mugged - or worse. But as fate would have it... he's the 'worse'. This new perspective of his would've worried him a year ago. It would've made him question his sanity and how he could even believe it. He had been nothing but spineless and would've rolled over for anyone.
Well, if that was true, it was all the more amusing that he was changing the behaviour of the city.
Not that he'd completely changed it yet... he'd only killed four people. More people died in weather events yet no one feared the wind. The kills he'd scored so far had just become so blown out of proportion and visible that everyone had an opinion on them and by extent, the Trail Killer.
He'd have to work hard to become the boogeyman of the city. But considering how easy, how fun it's been so far, he was sure he could bring the society that discounted and neglected him to its knees.
He couldn't wait to see if that was possible.
Maybe he was just upset - all because of Alfred, what's new? - but he felt the need to prove himself. Prove himself to who? He wasn't sure. Alfred? Who got upset because of the murders because he's weak?
But he didn't want to give Alfred all the credit. It wasn't his brother's sole fault that Matthew's life was so underwhelmingly shitty.
Was he trying to prove something to himself?
His thoughts weren't exactly concise, but that didn't matter. He didn't need to think about the why, only the how once he had a target in mind.
It wasn't long until he came across a target. A man was smoking by a dumpster around the corner of an alley. It wasn't hard to put two and two together when Matthew could make out his uniform being from the shop beside him. It seemed he had closed the shop, all alone. Matthew didn't recognise the man so the likelihood that this was one of Alfred's friends was low, low enough Matthew was willing to risk it. Matthew would have to bet that all of Alfred's friends, besides his brother, were having dinner together and off the streets for the time being.
Matthew paused to scope out the scene. No cameras, no witnesses, and an easy exit. How perfect. The only risk was the man, but Matthew knew he could take him off guard. After all, Matthew was unassuming and unthreatening, all qualities that apparently made people decide not to bother with him.
He shoved his hand into his pocket and walked into the alley towards the man, who paid him no notice.
"Excuse me?" He said pleasantly to make the man look his way while keeping to the shadows.
"What?" The man blew some smoke out the corner of his mouth, thankfully the opposite way. But he didn't move from where he leaned on the wall.
"Do you have the time?" Matthew stalled.
"Don't you have a phone?" The man sighed but reached into his pocket with his free hand and lowered his smoke with the other.
Matthew opened the blade and lunged forward. The man sucked in a wet gasp and his phone clattered to the ground. Matthew kicked it into the alley, far out of reach. But the man wasn't thinking logically like Matthew was, instead seizing and trying to stop the heavy and sluggish blood from flowing from his neck with wide eyes.
His cigarette fell to the ground and Matthew wondered if the man even knew what had happened, his wide eyes staring ahead at nothing as his janky movements jolted to save himself but ultimately did nothing. All he did was collapse to the ground and breathe harshly.
Matthew leaned forward and swiftly carved the top two sides of a triangle onto the flinching man's forehead. The resulting wound looked like a pointer, resembling one found on the many trails throughout the park.
He took a tissue from his other pocket to wipe off the blade before pocketing both as he watched the focus fade from the man's eyes. Once he was certain the man wouldn't move again, he shrugged off his backpack and added a layer of clothing. It was a bit chilly anyway, considering he was only in a shirt and shorts. He pulled some pants on and a long sleeve over his slightly damp shirt. He didn't get that much blood on him, and he was content that he was 'levelling up' so to speak. After slicing so many necks he had finally gotten the hang of avoiding the mess.
But he still brought a few changes of clothes with him. Better to be safe than sorry. Even though he was convinced that even a suspicious degree of blood would go unnoticed just by the merit of being on him.
With the knife and backpack in place, he leisurely disappeared back into the alley, effectively blending into the darkness.