^^ So yeah, welcome to another Chowdergal story! One of my first attempts at murder and most importantly, Snapped!Canada.
One thing guys, I couldn't have done it without my wifey Cheyenne and my other friend Lauren. You guys rock! :D No seriously, thank them…this wouldn't have gotten far…XD
Title: Mad World
Warnings: Oho…lots of bloody scenes, mind screw, swearing, rape…sex…..take your favorite.
Pairings: Snapped!CanadaxRussia, slight hints of FrUK, FrUs…(Deal with it)…more if I feel like it~
What makes a serial killer? Perhaps a destroyed childhood? A traumatic turn in life? Or maybe it's because of the small things in life. As told by a middle-aged police man to a fresh detective determined to solve a terrible case, they go deep inside the mind of a troubled, shy young man by the name of Matthew Williams, later dubbed the Copy-Cat murderer. So sit back, you might learn a thing or two about this serial killer yourself…and perhaps catch the murderer…if he's still alive.
July 9th, 1952...
"A cold, rainy winter; perfect." the man muttered to himself and pulled up his small jacket which didn't stand a chance the beating water. God, how he hated this country…
But regardless, he was there because something rather peculiar happened a while back that made columns and headlines in almost every newspaper around the world. A string of murders that had the public baffled, shocked, and in fear; the murders that fooled the police and resulted in the tragic downfall of their best leader. It was intriguing. They were called the copy-cat murders, named after the similar styles to past serial killers.
But what fascinated the detective most about these murders is that the culprit and mastermind behind them vanished without a trace before anyone could make the move to arrest him. And strange enough, after that, everything just went silent. As the story supposedly goes, the killer committed suicide after running from the law. However, as the man walked up those marble steps, something in his mind told him the murderer was still out there; living a quiet life until he was willing to strike again. And if so, the detective was going to be the one to bring him to justice. But first, he needed to get more background information on the man. Passing the officers after showing his identification, he made his way towards the police records files; it listed every criminal ever known to man. He flipped through the cabinets before pulling a rather thick file folder labeled; "Copy-Cat". Eager eyes scanned over the package before his hands hungrily ripped at it. Once he say gleaming white paper with small dark print on it, his heart nearly stopped.
"Ah, I see you're looking at the C.C murders." a voice said. The man whipped around before giving a grin.
"Yes I am. I'm quite interested in learning the details of this investigation. It might help me later on." The policeman gave a heavy sigh.
"I might know a few things that aren't within that file. You see, the horrors of the murders were too shocking and gruesome to put it all down in a file. Some think it's best to forget the entire thing and move on." The detective's green eyes widened slightly.
"But, then wouldn't history repeat itself, maybe not now or in the near future…but perhaps some other day? Please, tell me what you know; it might be vital to my research."
"It's a long story lad." the middle-aged man said and shook his head.
"I've got plenty of time." the other responded, leaning back in his chair. He watched as the person in front of him scratched his balding head; contemplating whether or not to tell the boy in front of him the emotionally scarring story or not. After a while, he gave in and sighed, much to the young detective's pleasure.
"Alright, but you might need several tissues and trashcans with you…"
"That tragic huh?" the detective mumbled, lightening up a cigarette. He took a puff before continuing. "Why don't we start from the beginning?"
"As you wish. The beginning doesn't start with the first victim, or even with the first signs of homicidal thoughts. It begins rather with a woman who for reasons name will be unmentioned to the story. She married the fresh out of school British genius Arthur Kirkland and settled down in a quiet home close to New York City. Within nine months into their marriage, she was pregnant with her first born; later to be named Alfred Kirkland.
Something was to be said about Alfred's mother; she loved living the good fast life she was taught to enjoy. But, after the child was born, she had to quit all of that for the sake of raising a child. And just like her happiness, her relationship with Arthur declined. Pretty soon, she was doing things behind her husband's back whenever the opportunity presented itself. It all seemed like harmless fun until she met another businessman similar to her husband; Francis Bonnefoy. There was something charming about the man that made Mrs. Kirkland do what she did; perhaps it was because unlike her, Francis was free from the bonds of marriage that kept her in captivity.
Balls, different person every night, wealth to spend; Francis was anything and everything that the woman wished to be a part of once more. And for that night, she pretended she didn't have a husband, a child, or any responsibilities. The Frenchman was all too happy to accept the young beautiful woman, unknowing that she belonged to another, more specifically his old business rival.
After the affair, Mrs. Kirkland slowed her role and went back to her monotonous life fairly easy. What she didn't realize what was growing inside her uterus was a monster. Only after the morning sickness and halted menstrual cycle did she start to panic. Oh yes, she knew it was the result of the one night stand, she knew it, yet she covered the incident as Arthur's second son. The Englishman, upon hearing the news was thrilled to add another Kirkland to the household. But the wife was far from happy. Another child to take care of….
On an interesting note, she on several occasions, tried to terminate the pregnancy. All attempts failed and on July 1st, just three days before Alfred's 2nd birthday, the child by the name of Matthew was born."
"Ah, so our murderer was named Matthew?" the detective asked, scribbling several things down. The man sighed and nodded.
"What comes after is anything but happy; taking care of not one, but two children seemed to take a devastating toll on Mrs. Kirkland's health. On one or two occasions documented she tried well to end her life; each time was thwarted.
Arthur was becoming increasingly concerned about his wife's condition and behavior. She would stare outside a window for hours; she would have long conversations with herself, and toss and turn violently in her sleep. It got so bad that the Englishman took over her motherly responsibilities while she remained bed ridden. Then disaster struck.
With Francis and Arthur outside in the garden discussing on family terms business and Alfred playing elsewhere, the sickly woman was left all alone with her other son in the nursery. Matthew was five at the time, calmly playing with a toy when he glanced up to see a grin upon his mother's face.
"Matthew darling, would you give your mama a hug?" He voice was as thick as honey, but the tone was anything but that. If anything, it was cold. Regardless, the little one cheerfully ran to his mother's open arms, giving her the tightest hug he could. He expected her warm hands to wrap themselves around his body, returning the favor. Yet, instead those hands gripped themselves around the boy's windpipe. Matthew gasped and tried to squirm away. This only made the woman press down harder.
"Ma-Mama! You're hurting me!" he choked out. Despite the tears starting to form in the mother's eyes, she kept her grip firm. If it weren't for Arthur and Francis who heard the pitiful cries, there would've been a corpse on the floor. Arthur, in shock, pulled his wife's cold hands off of Matthew's neck and pulled him from the deranged woman.
"You were nothing but an accident!" She screeched out loud, the calm beautiful face anyone knew long gone.
"You dare talk about my son like that?" the Englishman bellowed, holding the child closer. An unnerving laugh tore through the room.
"You senile man; he's not even your son!" She pointed a long pointed nail towards the Frenchman who'd been frozen the entire time. "He is!"
Arthur's face went positively pale the moment those damning words were uttered. "N-Not my…s-son…?" To know that his wife sleep with not only another man, but his business rival was enough to send him over the edge, but then on top of that, discover that the child you cherished all these years wasn't yours to cherish to begin with made him fall to knees. Francis was just in as much shock as Arthur was. Glancing at the woman's panicked face, something in his memory sparked. Those 5 years ago, he had recalled sleeping with her, but he would never think he would impregnate her…
"C-Cheri…I never meant t-"
"You never meant to what; hurt me? Because of you, I have terrible nightmares about this thing, about what I've birth. He is no son of mine! Take him back! Take him!" the woman yelled at the top of her lungs to the startled Frenchman. She leaped for the small boy again. Francis caught her in time before she could do anything. "He's nothing but a mistake! He should've never been born!"
Matthew stood there, shaking in confusion. "Ma-Mama doesn't love me…?"
Arthur stepped forward, still shaking from his own shock. "T-That's enough!"
The woman broke free from Francis' grasp and ran towards the window. Without giving a second thought, she plunged through the glass stained second floor window. No one but the small boy bothered to look at the bloodstained sidewalk below. Matthew later recalled he couldn't stop screaming at the sight of her disfigured body. He remembered Arthur shielding his eyes away from the terror and leading him downstairs while Francis hurriedly called the nearest maid for an ambulance.
The funeral was quick…only a few admirers decided to pay their respects for the late Mrs. Kirkland. The small boy looked up towards his English father, his lip trembling slightly. Arthur stared back down with something Matthew hadn't seen before. Whatever it was, that's exactly how the Englishman saw his supposed son from here on out.
"So apparently Mr. Kirkland stopped loving his son from the moment he realized Francis was his actual father?" the detective questioned, twirling the cigarette around. "Sounds kinda harsh don't you think? It wasn't his fault who his father was."
"Ah, that we can't for sure verify; all we know is that Arthur didn't treat him the same way again. Give or take."
"And what about Francis? Did Arthur get angry at him or not?"
"Another thing we have to guess on. Our theory is that after the tragic death of Mrs. Kirkland, they never spoke to each other again. The silent treatment if you want to call it that. I think they both thought it was best not to cross paths again, for safety reasons. Alfred doing all this remained completely oblivious. That's why I'm sure that when it came to family, Matthew loathed him so much." The detective looked up, raising an eyebrow.
"Ah...the jealous half brother role?"
"You could call it that…he was most certainly jealous of Alfred; he was Arthur's legitimate son. Even better, the Englishman seemed to be growing more and more fond of the American and less and less fond of the other one. Pretty soon, he couldn't remember his name. Nor could anyone else. He was seen as a ghost now; ever since that day.
When he was about thirteen, he went to live with his real father Francis for a year. There, he seemed to be paid more attention than at the Kirkland residence. But, as he discovered, his father had gotten married to another woman and had had a baby girl by the name of Angelique Bonnefoy. Knowing that he was the bastard son of Francis while this little girl was legitimate made him angry. However, life continued on. Being the bright boy he was, he learned to read and speak in his father's native tongue, French. It was no doubt that the young man would grow up to be a promising business man like his fathers.
If it weren't for one thing that would drive him to commit such murders; revenge.
And that, my friend, is where the story of the Copy-Cat Murders begin."
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