the butcher's back in town

Toby nodded along as Felix spoke, chin resting in a palm, watching him quietly. The evening streetlights were starting to switch on, occasionally illuminating his face, like a sunburst in colder colors. He was beautiful. Of course Toby remembered whatever he was told by this person, or that he was ever able to dig up and cherish. The stalker slouched as much as he could in his seat, feeling like a rat and wishing he had one of the beers to sip at. Settled with normal fidgeting, instead, picking at his sleeves, eyes shifty, flickering away or to the wrong places, staring. Like a fucking creep. But Felix loved him. He supposed that made his unpleasant behavior more acceptable, for some reason. Hilarious.

He loved him enough to take him on dates, to tolerate his presence, to give him pleasant surprises. Part of him wanted to call Felix an idiot, but Toby knew he just felt blessed for it, and couldn't. The word blessed left a nasty taste on his tongue, which he fully savored. Angelic, blessed, beloved Toby. Disgusting concept. Filthy.

While he'd already been staring, his eyes lit up with added interest when Felix went the topic direction he did. Toby knew about The Butcher, of course. Long gone, but he kept track of anything he could, new or old, related to the horrific. Manta Carlos was a lovely home for slashers, him included. He grinned a little and said, with his best Reddit voice, "Social justice warrior Felix Verma, even at a young age." He poked his partner teasingly, then continued to listen, intent. "You know, I considered copying The Butcher. Classic name and theme-- but I never did it. Not sure why. Maybe the human, costumeless aspect, or the rape. Maybe it was procrastination."

He could've started bouncing in his seat at mention of something like The Butcher's second kitchen, and vibrated a little, barely containing himself. "And you're… bringing me there." Oh, goody. He nearly slouched enough to slip out of his seat (refusing to wear a seatbelt), and rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain, expression smug to match it. "I can picture it now, Felix. Completely. A younger you, same spirit, wandering around somewhere dark and questionable. Additionally, are you telling me you never ended up sharing it with the police?" Toby kicked his feet and smiled. "I'm looking forward to this."

He was quick to get out of the car and be at Felix's heels, hovering around him with impatience, eager to go inside. He loved this location. He bet whatever Felix was going to show him, it'd be perfect, inspiring. He could base sets off of it. Felix didn't let him down, no, no, he knew his tastes. When handed the crowbar, he took it, squeezing and enjoying the feeling of it in his grip. "You got it, boss. And thanks." He pried open the door for Felix fairly effortlessly, wanting to show off and impress him just as much.

He stretched and rested the crowbar on his shoulder while he peered into the dark. He brought up his phone and turned on the flashlight. "Shall we?" He nudged Felix. "I hope we see the real Butcher. You think it could happen? Nah… but I wish." After a moment, he leaned up to kiss Felix on the cheek to show his appreciation. While remaining professional. Sure, sure, professional, that was what the two of them were. The most ethical of coworkers and friends. Funny, funny jokes that'd never get old.

Toby followed behind Felix, ducking inside and humming. He quietly took pictures once a light was on, and thought he'd sketch concept art for a setup based from the backroom later, once he was cozy in his friend's bed. For now, he breathed in the air and dust, coughing and laughing. "Disgusting! Good shit, perfect atmosphere." He bounced on his heels, starting to feel a bit hyper.

"Doesn't seem relevant? Pointless evidence?" Toby huffed a laugh. "So you say! I'd disagree, but hey, it means we can poke around in here unofficially without much trouble." Cold case, that was a fun term. Personally, he couldn't stand it. As a stalker and a story enthusiast, he liked to know everything, see things get a good start and finish. He knew he'd left behind a lot of cold cases with his copycat work, and how much went on behind the scenes. When he heard 'cold case', he could practically taste intrigue. He licked his lips. "I'm surprised they never found it in the first place. Only the meddling kids. So those cartoons really do reflect reality, huh?"

He obliged and helped Felix, then observed almost impatiently, gnawing on his lip, fingers tapping away on his thigh. He bit down harder to contain further laughter. "Look at that, look at that, beautiful-- oh, Felix, secret tunnels, attics, basements, I love 'em all!" He was ready to argue with the I'll go in first, eyeing the ladder into the darkness longingly, but didn't get the chance to. He crouched next to the opening and stared down into it as Felix disappeared. Curious, curious. As soon as it was illuminated, Toby slipped down the ladder to go after him.

Very familiar scent. He heard Felix gasp, and jumped down the rest of the way too, from a higher distance, ankles protesting with a jolt of pain before his magic fixed him up. Toby's face lit up like it was Christmas morning, only with more severed limbs and people meat. He had a sudden involuntary gigglefit, nervous and excited. Taking out gloves from his pocket and putting them on, he clapped his hands together, positively delighted. "Felix! A present, for me? You shouldn't have! And so nicely wrapped!"

Toby navigated around the second kitchen, grinning and touching and taking more pictures. He found a chopped off arm, and used it to wave at Felix. He poked the torture tools. Posed for a selfie with a hanging body. Hell, he even did an impromptu tap-dance on the pretty tiles in joy. "Not how you expected it to be, no, better. Haha! We walked straight into a murdering cannibal's den! Of all the coincidences to happen! Figures! It's us, after all!"

He went silent, as if hit with something once his blind giddiness settled, and trailed back over to Felix quickly, voice lowered. "How soon do you think he'll be back? Should we be hiding right now, or getting the fuck out? What do you think? Better decide fast."

Truly, when Toby was overly hyped up, it was a bad sign. He was a living danger meter, running straight to the evil and snubbing almost everything else like it was going to give him cooties. He puffed out a cheek at being scolded, shrug exaggerated, pouting only to be a brat. He knew, of course, something unpleasant was coming, like he could smell and salivate over it. When he followed Felix around, keeping his mouth shut as advised, he did so half-distracted, eyes flickering to the corners and entrance every other second for signs of movement, ears perked for footsteps.

The environment was making his skin buzz. It was electric. Toby gnawed on his lip and bounced a little on his feet, feeling like he should be doing something, something more here. As he peeked around Felix's shoulder, looking at the fridge's contents, a little shiver went down his spine, wishing he could taste the meat. "I've seen my own flesh in little containers like that, you know," Toby said. "Have I told you I'm a donor? All legal, gives me a damn lot of extra income. It's wild. Though, some prefer the thrill of the hunt more than store packaged meals, like our dear ol' friend Billy."

Toby poked an eyeball before the fridge was closed again, snickers muffled. He cleared his throat and sobered again for his partner's sake, rubbing the other's arms and squeezing his hands. Felix seemed… shaken up. "Right, right, anything you want. Hey, relax, we'll be fine—" Toby's head jerked up at the noise he'd been waiting for. Oh boy! Jinxed it! Jinxed it real good. He contained his squealing, biting down hard on his own hand as he grinned, feeling himself getting dragged away even if he wasn't focused on it.

Hearing that voice and awful, grating laugh made him feel like he was high. The only reason he didn't wiggle away and seek it out was because Felix was there. If worse came to worse, he could take the hits and have the less durable between the two of them make a run for it. He'd play little piggy well, he was sure. "Oink," Toby whispered, and giggled, before falling completely silent. He smelled raw meat all around him, and wiped away drool.

The Butcher wasn't so easily tricked with only a flare. Toby watched, heartbeat racing, with admiration. He'd ran when the cops were on his tail before. He was smart. Not normal, no, but that didn't mean he wasn't smart. And Toby found way more of a rush in that than pushover baddies. He wasn't built the way he was for pushover baddies. No, Toby couldn't be torn or fully broken because he needed to have that failsafe, was guaranteed to be beaten down when going after these people or imitating them. He wasn't the hero, not even close, so perfectly dodging and escaping them was never in his options.

Nah. He was here to get fucked up. When Felix jumped back, Toby only leaned forward, welcoming and looking to be grabbed, arms open, smile stretching wider. Fingers enclosed tight around his throat, and he choked, pulling at the hand, legs twitching. He laughed, even if it was broken and barely audible. Eat him, eat him, go ahead! He'll keep laughing, then spit in your face! Toby's vision went spotty, but he was so excited. Sharp pain ripped through his skin and flesh, making him cry out, scrabbling more violently at the hands holding him. Heat rose to his cheeks when it continued. Oh, lord… What was this, a cutting telekinesis? That's… that's something special…

Felix was with him, though. He had to make sure his partner was safe. This wasn't the time to mentally jerk off. Adrenaline was bubbling in his body even with the draining air and wounds, working double-time and intrigued by the horrible things happening. Toby drank it in as if it was a different source of oxygen, shuddering all over. Then, right after going limp, he restarted with a jolt and thrashed like a the batshit ferret he was, kicking and clawing. He forcefully twisted his face, reveling in the pain it brought him, and bit into Billy Graham's hand, clamping his jaws down and jerking his head back and forth to try and tear something. He hoped Felix caught on to the fact that now was the time to act.

Toby was throwing a big fit one moment, seeing nothing but white the next. His head spun. It took him a moment to register it was Felix's magic, and he hadn't simply died then and there. Then, his ears rang with the gunshots, and The Butcher went down. He swallowed down air in huge gulps, chest heaving, knees trembling, but didn't fall. His heartbeat was up, and so was his energy, and he bounced from foot to foot. Giddy, he was just about to kick Billy while he was down, but Felix caught him by the back of the collar and dragged without looking back, taking that chance away. Toby mourned the loss, but turned to flee anyway, managing to register that they had priorities.

He gaped at the second slasher to show up, a tall, thin man with a rabbit mask and a little more classy an outfit, then grinned. Another flash of light. Toby's vision went spotty, but felt Felix pulling him along. He scrabbled blindly at the ladder, slipping once and giving it a moment. When he could see again, he glanced back to check if the bunny was behind him with a knife or not. He wasn't, and had gone straight for Billy's side instead. Perfect distraction, then. Toby licked his lips, waved goodbye, and scrambled up the ladder.

Fast paced at Felix's heels, they got the fuck out of there. Toby blinked, then started laughing, big and open and breathless. He couldn't stop. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! We got out! Hahaha!" His skin was tingling, the pain intense as he cackled. "Ow, motherfucker, that asshole did a real number on me." This note, of course, only led to more giggling. Toby bounced into the car and slammed the door behind him, locking it. "Drive, drive!"

He got on his phone to call the police. While doing so, he pulled up his shirt to check the damage, curiosity killing him. It was nasty, no shocker there, and he poked at the flesh, digging a fingernail in and wiggling it around. He was a little caught off guard over the fact that he could thrash, run, and talk with it all, and furrowed his brows. "Huh," he mumbled, then shrugging and leaving it at that.

Logan sighed and stayed back after his dad went down the ladder, waiting and keeping watch in the back of the old butcher store. It was too quiet up here. He'd be able to follow soon, but Billy was going to take care of their company first. Lord, someone had found them already. Maybe that meant more caution was needed, after this disposal occurred. Billy liked the shop, but relocation seemed smart. Was he being paranoid? Too much of a nervous little boy? Was his inexperience showing, in his nerves? Logan took off the bunny mask briefly to scrub at his face. In an effort to relax, he looked forward to new bodies to play around with. He wondered if the intruders were pretty. He hoped so.

The noise was muffled, up here. It sounded interesting, but ultimately Logan remained detached, and quietly tapped his fingers on his thigh. If things were going to be drawn out, he was starting to feel pouty he wasn't there too. He turned and walked towards the ladder, peeking down. It wasn't as though he could see what was going on from here, but he could hear a little better. A scuffle, likely someone struggling, something clattering on the ground. Then, the magic in the air thickened. Logan stared down, holding his breath, shoulders stiff. Then, two gunshots, and his dad didn't use a fucking gun. An awful pained sound that was undeniably his father's. Logan gasped and nearly tripped over his own feet in the hurry to slide down the ladder, panic surging in his body, brain providing only the worst possible outcomes.

He jumped back at the same time Felix did, momentarily bewildered from seeing him. Well, that was definitely a pretty intruder. They'd slept together, once, another pushy effort from Logan. Probably not something he should do again, with this situation. And there was a second person here, someone Logan could smell the fresher blood on. He didn't really have time to pay attention to these two, though. He was about to run past them, but then, white, nothing but white light, and that same jolt of magic he'd felt the air thicken with. Felix's, he guessed. His hands shot up to cover his eyes, and he waited for a second before taking them away again.

He fell to his knees at Billy's side, tears prickling at his eyes, under the mask. "Dad? Daddy? Oh my God." Logan frantically checked over him, trying not to hyperventilate. He deflated and sniffled. "I-it's just your knees, thank fuck, I thought... Jesus, we need to leave, r-right now. One of those men was a police detective, they'll be back with reinforcements. Come on!" He stood and wrapped an arm around Billy to pull him up. "I'll help you, I'll help you, we'll be okay. Should I… try to numb your knees with my magic? Could that work? I've never done it before, shit, I don't know what works b-but we'll be okay…"

Logan started to tremble a little at the sound of sirens, gnawing at his bottom lip, nerves leaving him twitchy and paranoid. He couldn't be caught, couldn't! He had everything to lose, right now. He supposed some might've told him to stay away from the serial killer business, with that in mind, but he'd gotten it in his stupid head that he could juggle it all at only seventeen. He'd pushed his luck too much, and that karma would finally catch up with him. Shit. Shit!

Billy's words snapped the unicorn out of it, made him jump before swallowing and nodding. Lord. He had to stop thinking that way, it didn't do any good, did it? His dad wasn't a quitter, not even when in this state, and Logan's eyes widened at seeing that. He sucked it the fuck up, like his father had, and followed him through the hidden exit, quietly mourning the loss of the second kitchen as they went.

As soon as they were back at the apartment, Logan was only going to fuss over Billy further.


Toby splashed cold water on his face in the police station bathroom. He'd been let out of red tape hell a bit earlier than Felix, since he was so much lower on the pecking order. Just a detective's pet CI. His recollection of what had happened was pretty clear, at least, and he hoped it'd help. He unbuttoned his bloody shirt and looked over his skin, picking at it once again with his nails. It was completely healed now, and Billy had done a fucking number on him. His healing was good, fast, but even for him it was a record. He shivered, and changed into a spare outfit before leaving.

He waited at Felix's desk, after that, patting his hands on his thighs absently. When not fidgeting, he sketched pigs and rabbits on a spare piece of paper, with one of those shitty office pens. Still looked pretty good. His head was already swirling with ideas. While he wasn't about to pull a true copycat crime on The Butchers, a part of him wanted to experiment with looks inspired by them, loosely and otherwise. Toby was an artist, at his most honest.

The blond perked up when Felix beckoned him away, abandoning the doodles for later and following his partner out eagerly. Felix had that look in his eyes. Toby was familiar with it, and let him collect his thoughts. Whatever was about to be said, between the two of them alone, would be fucking good.

Toby snatched the coffee and held it for a while, letting it warm his hands from the early October air, listening with heavy interest as Felix spoke. Then, Toby chugged the drink, wanting to feel scalding heat down his throat, exhaling sharply when he was done, steam rising from his breath.

He stood on his toes and grabbed Felix's face, kissing him suddenly and firmly. Then, he leaned back, still cupping his partner's cheeks, and grinned. "Felix-- you don't even need to ask. Let's fucking do it. Make Billy Graham regret ever coming back. What an idiot. But it's okay, I don't blame him, not really." A softer smile. "It's not like he knew you'd be here, dear detective."

Toby handed back the coffee cup and stole Felix's cigarette. "You don't even need to ask. Not with me. You know that," he repeated. "Never with me, Felix Verma."

Holding hands after having a serial killer try to kill you was perfectly appropriate, in Toby's opinion, and nobody could convince him otherwise. He was sure Felix felt the same way.