Mama, I'm in Love with a Criminal ... [[ boy x boy ]]

"911, what's your emergency?"

A smirk formed within the dark shadow.  No words were spoken, the landline phone was simply held out for the other end to hear the raspy, blood curdling half-scream from the recorder next to the victim on the red ground.  The phone was calmly set back down on the receiver.  Knowing full well that the cops would soon be on their way any moment, a few simple numbers were etched into the cheek of the evidently recently dead woman.  Blood dribbled down from the large numbers; '242424/252525' as the stranger turned heel and swiftly made it out of the dank apartment before he was caught.  Common rubber gloves were tugged off and stuffed into Jean pockets.  No need to leave any clue other than the clearly visible number knifed into the woman's cheek. They'd know who; which serial killer they were dealing with today.  But had they known there was just one more to go?  Seemed likely enough.  They were stupid, but not completely blindsided.  They would figure that much out.

The satisfied grin returned to the murder's face, as he strode away from his victim's hollowed out body.  Eyes were left wide open, as if in fear.  Which, of course, was probably the case.  The mouth was gaped, but not much was left inside.  Teeth pulled one by one, tongue swiftly chopped from their mouth.  The chest was completely emptied.  Hollow, even.  Each organ carefully cut out, as though a surgeon had done it themselves.  Nothing else was touched.  Simple bruising on the ankles and wrists, but only from being restrained.  Nothing interested him but the insides.  What made them tick; how they worked; what was wrong with them on the inside.  Of course he couldn't possibly keep his helpless victim alive through all of this pure torture, he found pleasure in recording the screams they made throughout the process.  It was intriguing.  Plus, how else could he notify the authorities?  He didn't plan on speaking himself, for they could figure that much out. 

But he needed them to come, to notify the media, to pretend they knew what they were doing.  That was the fun part.  Of course, he found knowing his victims 'inside-out' was enjoyable as well, but it was the game afterwards that he looked forwards to.  The cops were idiots, but not always as stupid as they lead on.  Who knew, maybe they could track down the Hollow Murder before his big finale?  Doubtful, yet interesting all the same.  It was smart to stay vigilant afterwards.  For all he knew, they stepped up their game and got themselves some real agents.  He was a pretty important serial killer, after all.

---

"Honey, did you hear about the poor girl murdered in her own apartment?"

The teenaged brunet nodded halfheartedly from the other side of the couch, considering they were watching the report about it at that exact moment.  The two - him and his mother - sat in front of their TV, which was switched to the news.  The police had found another body.  Gee, what a surprise.  He had come to a conclusion that they really didn't do much about it.  It would be pretty simple to find him, don't you think?  His MO was to take out every organ, and then the teeth and tongue.  He would call in with the scream.  Leave them in their own houses.  They just needed faster police cars.

Standing up, he knew that would probably not be too much help.  But the least they could do was give people legitimate instructions as to what to do about this.  They weren't exactly the most helpful people in the police force.  Were the state police involved, perhaps?  No doubt. 

"Mum, I'm going out,"  he stated flatly, as he tugged his arms into a simple hoodie.  He knew his mother would probably refuse, but as soon as he tugged on his worn black chucks, he hurried out the front door, slamming it behind him as he heard a shrill, "MATTHEW!"

It was hard for him to stay cooped up during so much excitement.  It wasn't like he was pining to catch the Hollow Murder, but it was like that anticipation of peeking inside your presents Christmas eve, or planting a prank on your teacher.  It was trouble waiting to happen.  And it was kind of exciting.  And even plus, now on his nightly walks, there were a lot fewer people out and about.  The occasional hobo, but that was normal. 

Matthew paced down the sidewalk in the chilly January air.  He had noticed a few beer bottles here and there in the ditch.  Leftovers from New Years, he suspected.  Admittedly, he himself had gotten a bit rowdy on New Years, but who didn't?  A few drinks, meaningless smooches, slurred conversation.  Nothing too interesting. 

Matt was a fairly normal person, actually.  'Nothing too interesting', you could say.  Sure, he was a bit of a pessimist and he constantly went out for walks near the middle of the night, but that wasn't too out of the ordinary.  He felt freer when he walked down the deserted roads of his town, even more so with the fear of the Hollow Murder in everyone's minds.  Honestly, he wasn't too worried.  He was nothing special; why would he be chosen to be hollowed?  That was the exact reason he could stand being outside during such a time.  He was safe, as far as he was concerned. 

But he had to admit, he was curious.  As to what it would be like, or what the killer himself thought about all this.  Obviously he was a complete physco path.  No doubt in his mind.  But would being important enough to be murdered in such a way feel thrilling, in a, you know, terrifying sort of way?  He wasn't hoping to be like the others, he wasn't suicidal or upset or anything.  The physiology of it was fascinating.  Getting into a murder's brain, seeing what makes him this way.  That was what would be cool. 

"When did I turn into such a freak?"  mumbled Matt to himself, shaking his head lightly from side to side.  He was just plain odd. 

Moments later, he felt a shoulder roughly collide with his own.  Startled, he quickly glanced up at the man beside him, murmuring an apology.  As he looked at the face in front of him, chills went through his spine. And not good chills.  Those kind of chills you get when you know something bad is about to happen, like in those horror movies. 

Something about the older man's face was bad.  All wrong.  Creepy, even.  Not wanting to be quick to judge, Matt let it roll over his shoulders as he hurried on down the sidewalk, not daring to look back at the all-wrong-man.