Chapter Text
CRACK
Ranboo smiled at the sound, his lips twisting into a crooked grin as the middle-aged man in front of him coughed out blood onto the floor.
“Why are you doing this? You’re going to get yourself killed.” The man said, voice broken apart by coughs and hoarse from screaming in pain over his fingers getting smashed and broken during the past forty minutes.
“You know why, I want names.” Ranboo replied coldly, crouching down in front of him to get on eye level with the man. “Also pretty bold words coming from a tied down man with his life at my mercy.”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Oh? Do I, now? Well, it’d make this a lot easier for you to just give me the information I asked for then. Unless you want to lose more than your fingers?” Ranboo’s patience was running thin, his clothes were already a mess with blood and he really didn’t want to spend more than an additional hour getting rid of traces in this room.
He waited for an answer but the man kept quiet.
Ranboo bit his tongue for a moment and then stood up with a nod.
“Alright, if you’re just going to be a prick about this, I’m hoping the next person on my list is a bit more fun to talk to than you.” He simply stated, annoyance clear in his tone, and reached over to take his bat from where it was leaning against the wall but stopped himself midway and pulled something out of an inner pocket of his jacket instead.
The dim light of the lamp across the room made the sharp blade of his butterfly knife glint as he opened it up one-handed in a quick, fluid motion. Ranboo turned the knife in the light with a smile.
“You know I really hated your demeanour.” He said matter-of-factly, turning his gaze to the man with a cold expression, the smile he had a second ago now wiped from his face as if it was never really there to begin with.
He returned to his crouched position, closer to his victim this time, and then pulled back the knife and cleanly ran it through the man’s throat in one swing.
The helpless gurgling in the background was at least somewhat nice to listen to as Ranboo began cleaning up his own steps across the house. Only when it stopped did the student actually look over his shoulder to see the now lifeless, pale corpse of the secretary of a law firm bled out and tied to a table, his fingers purple and bloodied from being shattered underneath Ranboo’s boots.
“Shame, really, I had hoped I’d get some more out of him… but the documents I found upstairs will do for now.” He commented and then started his clean-up routine to get rid of any evidence that could lead back to him.
He knew how many traces he left, Ranboo was careful and rarely stupid enough to leave anything behind that is horrible to get rid of again that could lead back to him.
The first was a different story but he definitely learned from it. He wasn’t a bio-chem student for nothing, knowing what dissolved specific residue so it ended up being untraceable, knowing what parts of the body to hurt in which ways to cause high pain but never lethally killing them outright until he needed to, knowing what effects chemicals and poisons had on the human body and how long his timer was when the victim showed the first symptoms of blood loss.
Two of the now eight corpses the police still haven’t found. Ranboo could be disappointed and he played as such whenever he had to look the leading detectives in the eyes, but at least he also could be quite proud of his latest work.
He wandered cautiously through the now eerily silent house, wiped door handles with rubbing alcohol thoroughly even though he knew he wore gloves when searching the home for any documents that could be of use for him and did the same with the computer in the small office upstairs, smiling to himself when he glanced at the emails again that supplied him with two new names he could go after in the next month.
And so Ranboo continued through the entire property, returning some books to their original spot on shelves like they were never moved in the first place and cleaning all the dust so none of it being gone could be of notice. “Maybe the victim was just very avid about keeping his house clean,” he could already hear the police say when they investigate the crime scene in a couple days. It was quite amusing to think about, he had to admit.
Ranboo glanced at the digital clock on the wall as he packed the rubbing alcohol and another folder of email records he found into his bag. 4:47 AM, it read. He sighed heavily, stepping around any bits of wet blood on the ground to the back of the house and walked out onto the garden’s porch. Rain was pouring down in waves, the breeze cool and strong for an average June night, the students shouldered his bat and walked out into the weather just in time to see lightning spike through the sky above followed closely by loud crackling thunder.
The sounds of simple forces of nature around him were quite the nice change to the annoying voice and screams he had to listen to for almost fifty minutes and the smell of rain was a lot more pleasant than that of blood and alcohol.
However the moments of short pleasantries faded when he reached his car tucked away in a corner outside of the view of any store or street cameras, placing his bat and the bag of chemicals in the hidden compartment of the backseats, and almost fell into the driver’s seat, the door falling shut with a pull beside him.
Ranboo stopped for a moment, watching the rain patter heavily against the windshield, and then just buried his face in his hands with a tired groan.
It was the 8th now. Three months had passed since he found out about The Sentinels and at that time he didn’t even have the name of them yet, that only reached him in the third house he searched through.
He honestly didn’t know how it came to this, the first one was more of an accident than anything. He just wanted to get more information, he was angry, enraged about finding out about it in his university’s archives and just wanted to know more, wanted to try and debunk the information he had.
For god’s sake, why didn’t he just drop it right then and there, listening to his gut feeling that screamed at him to leave that whole bag of rats alone, to just throw it away and never look at it again. Just listen for once.
But he didn’t.
And now it felt like a drug.
Ranboo let his hands fall off his face into his lap, taking out the ignition key of his car and left the district in the most complicated and undetectable way to his apartment building in which his small home resided at the top floor with access to the roof and a balcony.
It was small and moderate but very nice to live in alone, though, he couldn’t call it living alone when one or both of his closest friends stayed over or Ranboo at their places almost every weekend and sometimes even during the week. It was nice…
The streets were quiet, the only noise being the heavy rain hitting the outside of the student’s car and thunder rumbling above alongside flashes of lightning. Living in a big city akin to New York that had such quiet roads at night was unusual but a nice experience for once, Ranboo had to admit that. Maybe that’s a big reason why his family moved here ten years back, a big city with a lot of opportunities but also not as polluted and busy with industry since that was mostly located outside of the city. It was quite high up there in the world with technology and measures to make every district more climate friendly.
Funny how such a progressive place was controlled by one single organisation. And how Ranboo’s parents wanting him to have more opportunities in life lead to their son being a wanted serial killer.
Ranboo almost missed the turn to his apartment building being as lost in thought as he was but eventually parked his car on the numbered parking lots, to then jog through the rain with keys in hand to get to the door.
He was drenched anyway, he didn’t really know why he cared, maybe trying to seem normal after literally coming back home from killing a man.
Climbing the stairs, taking two steps at a time, he reached the 5th floor fairly quickly but despite his training at volleyball practice three times a week he still ended up winded whenever he sprinted up several flights of stairs. It was annoying.
After opening the door his apartment didn’t really feel… welcoming. It hadn’t been in months. Ranboo just sighed, closing his apartment’s door behind him. It was dark, the only light coming from lightning flashing through the windows of the living room and filtering through its open door to the hallway. It took a few minutes of him just standing there, leaning his back against the door, breathing calming down from the stair-sprint, heart rate slowing to a steady beating in his chest despite it still sounding a bit too loud in his own ears. When he pushed himself off the door to walk towards the living room he felt a stabbing pain at his lower back and left side and almost keeled over.
“You’ve got to be kidding me–” he said under his breath, holding his side with one arm.
Slowly changing course, he took the door to his left instead and entered the bathroom, letting his ruined jacket fall to the tiled ground and lifted his shirt to only curse when he saw the stitching of a deep flesh wound from two weeks prior had probably ripped open at one side and was heavily bleeding through the bandages wrapping across his lower torso.
“This whole killing business would be so much easier if those goddamn Sentinel-dogs could’ve just left me alone, but no, of course not." Ranboo muttered angrily as he threw his shirt in the corner to the jacket, unwrapped the bandages, hissing at the lessening of pressure on the wounds, and took out a small box with hooked needles and thread from the cupboard underneath the sink.
The wound’s stitches did indeed open up.
So Ranboo just took the marking pen from the box and put it between his teeth to bite on it while he re-did the stitches on his abdomen. It thankfully wasn’t as bad as he thought, only a third if the previous stitching had loosened and partly ripped, so he just cut the thread where the last secure knot was and as careful as the first time threaded the hooked needle through skin and flesh, stitching the wound closed again. He didn’t even flinch anymore, not really at least, after the first stitch it just was a continuing pain of the small incisions. The burning of the wound itself and pulling the thread tight was the worst pain from the whole ordeal.
Once he had cleaned off the spilt blood, replaced the bandages and secured them with two metal clips, Ranboo just plopped onto the teal and white chequered tiles and lay down. The ceramic was cold against his burning skin, soothing for newer bruises and freshly healed scars. He sighed heavily, placing one arm over his eyes to block out any light and just take a moment.
It had to be almost 6 AM at this point. In two hours he needed to be up and standing outside of Freud University to go to the Friday morning lecture on human anatomy… He needed a coffee, a strong one.
In the end it took him an entire half of an hour to actually leave his bathroom again, he didn’t know if he nodded off or not, and wandered into the kitchen to start his coffee machine. While the water started to boil Ranboo went to throw his clothes into the washing machine after prepping the spots that had blood on them and went to change into a new outfit that was at least sensible for uni later and had a hood because apparently the thunderstorm wasn’t thinking about ending anytime soon.
So he threw on a pair of black jeans, a comfortable shirt that was wide enough so the bandages wouldn’t be visible and put on a hooded denim jacket he stole from Sneeg a couple months back. It was a miracle that Ranboo never got blood on it since then.
Making himself a cup of coffee once he got back he just sat on the kitchen counter next to the windows that were partly open to let the stormy wind into the stuffy apartment. It took another 15 minutes for the phone he had left on the counter for the murder trip to buzz. It was a message from Tommy.
Tomathy: Hey guys! idk if either of you are awake yet but Wil was just called to the department, apparently there is an emergency. Do you think it’s got to do with the serial killer??
Ranboo cocked an eyebrow at that. “They already found the crime scene? That’s… very concerning.” He spoke the thoughts aloud into his silent apartment, reading the message over and over again, taking a sip from the black coffee in his mug when he saw Tubbo typing.
Tubs: Tommy istg you did not just wake me up half an hour before my alarm for that
Tomathy: WELL WHY DON’T YOU HAVE YOUR NOTIFS ON DND THEN????
Tubs: BC I ACTUALLY WANT TO HEAR THE NOTIFICATIONS WHEN IT’S AN EMERGENCY DICKHEAD
He laughed lightly, in a way it was nice seeing his friends bicker this early in the morning. Ranboo put his mug aside and started typing.
Ran: Tbf, last time there was a message this early/late you had an accident with Wil’s motorbike Toms
Tomathy: Oh shut the fuck up. Why are you awake already anyway?
Ranboo paused before typing his reply.
Ran: Got woken up by the thunderstorm two hours ago and couldn’t sleep since then
Tubs: Sadge… hey, since we’re all up then, do we want to meet up early and chill in the winter garden at uni until our first lectures?
Tomathy: Oh sure :D Ran, can you pick us up? I don’t want to get wet waiting for the bus
Tubs: Oh yes pls!!
Ran: Well get ready then. I’ll be over at Tubbo’s in 15 roughly and get you afterwards, Tommy, kay?
Tomathy: Aight got it
Tubs: You might have to wait a bit in the car boss man, I’ll try to be quick tho
Ran: np :)
At least he didn’t just have to sit around at home then, Ranboo thought and got off the kitchen counter. He filled the rest of the coffee into a thermos to keep it hot, shouldered the bag with his laptop for notes and uni work and books he still had to return to the library there, took the keys from his door and left his apartment again, this time taking his time to go down the stairs in order to cause himself with the freshly stitched wound not another painful dilemma.
He pulled his hood up as he jogged back to his car and had a genuine smile on his lips since the previous day at uni with Tommy and Tubbo and went back onto the roads that were a little more busy now with people driving to work through the storm.
He knew the way to his friends’ houses in and out, that’s how many times he’s walked or droven it the past two years since he moved out to be closer to the university that all of them went to. Since befriending each other five years ago they made it a promise to never walk a path alone again.
To know that he broke that promise three months ago still weighed Ranboo down and he knew that weight on his chest would only grow for every passing day he kept this from them.
But there was no way back anymore. Not from this. He knew that.
Ranboo pulled up on the side of the road in front of Tubbo’s house and took another swig of coffee to keep himself awake. Crashing his car with either of his friends in the passenger seat because he didn’t really sleep for a good 30 hours was not something he had on his bucket list.
He went to reach for the glove compartment almost unconsciously out of habit but ended up getting his hand slapped away from it when the passenger door was opened.
“Forget that immediately, no smoking when I’m in the car with you or I’ll steal the keys, kick you out and drive to uni myself.” Tubbo threatened light-heartedly before falling into the passenger seat and closing the door so that the rain didn’t get into the car, placing his backpack in front of his feet.
“Okay, fair,” Ranboo just sighed, placing his hands onto the steering wheel again, “so, to Tommy, then?”
“I’d say we leave him standing in the rain but I’m not in the mood to be that mean today,” Tubbo replied, ruffling through his own hair to get the few wet strands that the rain caused to dry. Ranboo just nodded, laughing, and took the first left towards the Soot’s humble home.
Along the way Tubbo turned the radio on which Ranboo usually kept silent or entirely off to fully focus on the traffic, especially in the morning and afternoons when work traffic hits the city streets. Some generic pop song was playing before the volume lessened and the song stopped mid-way through.
“We interrupt the morning playlist for some breaking news! We’ve just gotten word from the press that a new crime scene assumed to be connected to the serial killer in our city has been found in the East-End. Sadly the police have given no information out yet but stick to our channel to be updated on the case. Stay safe and out of harm’s way, now back to–”
Tubbo turned off the radio again with a mumbled comment that Ranboo didn’t quite hear, his mind was screaming too loud at him to understand anything that quiet.
Was he not careful enough? Did he take too long? Did they find out quicker than he anticipated and hoped to have the police find him still at the crime scene? They found the house not even two hours after he left it… He had to work more efficiently, faster, he had to be more vigilant, he couldn’t afford one of their goddamn dogs tailing him this close, this was dangerous, way too–
“Ran, we’re here.” Tubbo noted, tapping Ranboo’s knee to get his attention. “Is the case on your mind a lot?”
“I guess so, yeah. It is a bit worrying.” Ranboo replied with a tired smile, Tubbo nodded.
“I’m still thinking about that history professor from our university that was found two and a half months ago, do you think he’s connected to it?”
Ranboo hesitated and was about to answer when Tommy opened the door in the back.
“Hey guys!” He smiled brightly, closing the car door again. “What’re you chatting about?”
“The case, Toms.”
The blonde’s face lit up even more at that.
“Well, you have the expert with you now, let me hear the theories.”
Ranboo and Tubbo laughed. “I was wondering if your old history prof was the first victim, it’s a popular conspiracy online, I was surprised you hadn’t posted anything on your blog about it yet.” Tubbo explained while Ranboo took it upon himself to get them to uni now.
“I haven’t written anything yet because I don’t believe it. No similar symbols were found at that crime scene from what Wilbur told me and he usually tells me anything from his cases.” Tommy said, playing with the strap of his seatbelt absentmindedly.
“Most serial killers start out with accidents, though.” Tubbo argued which Ranboo almost smiled at because it was entirely true. The first was indeed an accident, mostly.
“See? Ranboo agrees.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You made a face, I know that face, and it means you agree with me.” Tubbo retorted with a winning smile.
“I still don’t believe it.” Tommy commented.
The rest of the car ride was filled with light laughter and jovial bickering, Ranboo stayed mostly silent which he blamed on his “few hours” of sleep and his needed concentration on the traffic, the other two accepted it without questions.
If only they knew the brutal truth, Ranboo thought, if only they knew.