Masky x Toby

Crimson.

          Toby doesn't waste his time when it comes to killing. He gets to his victim as quickly as possible, then drags out the pain. Enjoys each and every cry that is released. The proxy enters the home through the bedroom window with ease, his slim body making it easy to slip through unnoticed. Not making a sound when his boots hit the floor, he crouches and stares at the target. Overweight, knocked out with a beer at his side. What did he expect?
          Toby wants to laugh at the stupidity. Leaving his windows unlocked with everything he's seen, everything going on. He should've realized he'd be the next target.
           Tim is no longer Tim. His other personality shines through, no longer feeling remorse for the drunk. All he feels is the desire to finish his task. To kill the man.
            Toby couldn't agree more. 
   Masky shows up at the bedroom door, he had snuck into the kitchen and made sure nobody else was in the messy home. If there were others, he would've had to killed them as well. No witnesses were allowed to live. Even children.
            The two proxies hover over the clueless male, Toby's lips curved into a nasty, sadistic grin. Finally. He reaches down and tugs his hatchet from its holder, sighing softly at the sound of the blade slipping through. What a pretty weapon. Much prettier than a petty knife. Prettier than Masky's crowbar. Stained with blood.
           The adult doesn't expect the blow to his stomach, the feeling of a sharp, thick blade piercing through his skin and into his intestines. The wet squelching of blood, the animalistic wails of pain. Toby bathes in the feeling of pushing the blade deeper, crimson blood spurting at him and staining his hoodie. He coos and tugs the blade out, easily picking up on how deep he managed to push. The victim is thrashing, sobbing in pain, squealing like a pig. Masky sits back and watches through his blank mask, guarding the door with his broad body. Even if the adult managed to get up and get past toby, he'd have to deal with Masky. Which, either way, he'd be met with a gruesome demise. One to a teenager, and one to a young adult.
         The brunette proxy sits down on the victims hips and leans in close, rubbing his hand on the bloody wound he had created. He groans out and lowers his face mask, sticking his tongue out and taking a slow, long lick of the crimson liquid. The taste of iron on his tongue making his eyes flutter closed, thighs twitching in agreement.
       "W-what the fuck is wrong with you!" The older adult wails and reaches down to grasp the wound, trying his hardest to stop the bleeding. It won't work. With how deep Toby pushed, he'll bleed out in minutes. That is, if Tobias lets him live that long.
      He's feeling generous today.
    The proxy squeezes the males hips with his thighs and raises his hatchet high in the air, ignoring the pleads. Ignoring the sobs of pain and desperation, ignoring the hand reaching up to grab at his throat as a final attempt at survival. He just smirks and slams the weapon into the males head, hearing the satisfying crack of his skull splitting. The mouth parting, blood slipping through the yellowed teeth and making a mess. The eyes rolling back, the final gasps.
          Masky walks over and ignores the uncomfortable feeling in the front of his pants, grabbing Toby's chin hard and making him turn to look at him. Tugging the mask from his face and immediately connecting his lips to the younger boys, forcing him into a brutal kiss.
      The taste of iron dances on both of their tongues.