Work Text:
Bormethius licked his lips while he went through files on different murder cases.
He definitely wasn’t trying to ignore the light in the corner of his eye that looked like his mother, more disappointed in him now than she was when he pushed a girl in the river when he was younger. He wasn’t trying to ignore the itch under his skin, or the burning of the cross necklace he kept tucked under his shirt. He most definitely wasn’t.
The files were interesting! Murders could be interesting! Like- ah yes. The “Rabbit Killer” an interesting name.
Not much of a pattern between killings, but the rabbit pelt draped over their wounds was an interesting way on identifying oneself. It did lead him to wonder how easy copycatting could be.
However, he also found that multiple victims described a feeling of being watched, and a few even outright claimed to be victims of stalking by someone in a rabbit mask just days before the murder took place.
Some killers used stalking as a way to scope out information about the victim, to learn the routine, and to find the ideal time to kill.
Police and detectives found nothing to suggest that the stalkings actually happened, but by the end of their search, the person had wound up dead.
The killings picked up about three years ago, with a few scattered over the years before that. It’s often random, with no set place, time, or set victim, though they were often in some sort of power.
One theory was that it was a hunter who often hitchhiked, which explained the pelts, and the wild spots on the map that were marked as murder sites, but didn’t explain the people, who often stayed in the city, and didn’t explain the stalking.
Another was that it was multiple people, all working together to create chaos, which would explain most of it, but the murders of lower profile people didn’t fit with it.
Overall, it’s basically a wild goose chase, and everyone is incompetent.
It reminds him of how no one else considered Ivory for-
Nope. Nope, nope.
He can’t think of the itch. How the blood felt, seeping into his gloves, and how he didn’t recognize his own face in the mirror anymore.
He shakes his head and stands up to open the window.
He closes his eyes and breathes in the cool air. He opens his eyes.
Someone is across the street, and looking directly at him.
A white rabbit mask stand out against the buildings and he can see the figure holding some sort of gun. He blinks and they’re gone.