Shinigami-cat: Hope you all like this next story! I OWN NOTHING!


Gilbert is a famous writer, who specializes in works on famous killers. After throwing around ideas with his editor he ends up in Nightingale Research and Rehabilitation centre, there he meets a nineteen year old named Matthew Williams, an unfortunate with a dark past.


Horror, possible yaoi, possible graphic death scenes, you have been warned


The Idea

Some monsters are easy to spot. They stand in the streets and beg for your company if you have the money. They steal and rob and murder. They take drugs and hurt those around them. Some are scared and disfigured. Others are harder to spot. They seem perfectly normal until you get to know them and see their true self, and when you see that dark and twisted side it's too late. You can't turn back and run. You're trapped... But does is that such a bad thing?

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A woman stood in front of a desk in the middle of a dimly lit room. Red carpet on the floor, wooden panel walls and bookshelf stuffed with encyclopaedias, dictionaries, horror novels and a suspicious box set that the woman assumed was concealing pornography. Sitting on the other side of the desk was a man in a leather swivel chair, who was blissfully typing away on his laptop. Not even giving the woman an ounce of attention.

The woman growled and slammed her hands against the table making the man jump. "You need to come up with another idea soon!" Snapped the woman. This woman's name was Elizabeth. She was usually a pleasant woman, but she always seemed to lose her cool around her arrogant, obnoxious, egotistical, narcissistic, albino friend. It didn't help that she was technically his boss.

Said albino just laughed at her and closed his laptop. "Come on Liz." He said. "I don't want to write any more stories about killers for a while. I just want to take a holiday for a while… How does a year or two in Australia sound? You can bring that prick of a boyfriend of yours too. My treat."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "This is not a laughing matter Gilbert! You can't live off royalties forever! You need to write another book or starve! I doubt your brother's going to want you living with him again!"

Gilbert rolled his ruby red eyes and looked up at the fuming brunet. Sometimes Elizabeth was a real bitch. "Fine… I'll come up with an idea… What's big in the news right now? Any killers need a biography? A collection of small time criminals perhaps?"

Elizabeth picked up a newspaper that was sitting on Gilbert's desk and started to flip through the pages. "Let's see… Earthquake in Japan… Drunk brawls…Tentacula… Oh and it's the one year anniversary of the Shredder killings."

Gilbert quirked an eyebrow. The Shredder killing was possibly one of the most brutal massacres by a single person since Jack the Ripper. "Isn't that guy that did the Shredder killings a Tentacula? It'll be impossible to talk to him. He's locked up at Nightingale."

Nightingale Research and Rehabilitation centre was one of the most heavily guarded and most controversial government funded organization in all America, if not the world. It was mostly criticized for allowing Tentacula criminals to cut their prison sentences in half or completely if they willingly participated with their research into how Tentacula work.

"Yes. But do Tentacula interest you?" Asked Elizabeth hopefully.

Gilbert thought for a second. He had always wanted to know how Tentacula criminals worked. He wanted to know what made them perform such brutal and horrific acts against humanity. But on the other hand he didn't really feel like giving them anymore bad publicity.

"I guess so… I honestly don't care. It'll be a quick book. All I need is an interview or two and that's that." He said. "If I interview Shredder I don't want to stay near him for too long in case he decided to chop off my head."

Elizabeth smiled a little. "Of course… You know… If I pitch this just right you could get an all access pass into Nightingale… You'll probably have to do a tone of stuff about how good Nightingale is at dealing with Tentacula."

Gilbert scoffed. "So I have to kiss ass for a story? Fuck that shit! I'm going to stay right here and live off my royalties!"

Elizabeth grinned. "Okay! I'll go talk to Roddy right now!" She turned and practically skipped out of the room. "Do your research on Tentacula first! You don't want to appear like some kind of red neck in front of them!"

Gilbert sighed and rolled his eyes. "Why must she ignore me all the fucking time?" He opened up his laptop again and started to have a look into the Shredder killings. There were never any pictures of Shredder. Only photos of the aftermath without the dead bodies. Blood was always everywhere and deep cuts were always etched into the surrounding walls and floor. It was more gruesome than any horror movie.

Full details were never released to the public because at the time of the killings Shredder was a minor, therefore all the public knew about him was that he was seventeen at the time of the killings, he had no immediate family or any family that would come forwards and claim him, he was a Tentacula and he was highly dangerous. The media had slammed him and Nightingale with hundreds of degrading titles over the months that followed his arrest.

Gilbert always despised the media for blowing things out of proportion. They immediately slammed people with horrific names that could and would stay with them for the rest of their lives; the Backpack killer, the Honey Moon killer and all the rest. Who knew their real names now? They were simply one dimensional killers, and the institutions that protected them were just as evil and perverse as the killers themselves.

Gilbert had always been interested in serial killers. He wanted to know what made them tick. More than often it stemmed one of three things; child abuse, sexual or otherwise, post-traumatic stress disorder, in rare cases but it still happened, or it stemmed from sexual perversion, the inability to perform with a partner, the inability to fulfil a sexual desire or even being rejected by a potential lover because of what they see can be triggers for killing someone.

He didn't expect this to be any different. Shredder was a teenager, any of those could have been the trigger. It would be an interesting story, if he was allowed to do it. But considering Elizabeth was a real sweet talker and her boyfriend Roderich AKA Roddy, was one of the head honchos at Nightingale, it was more than likely that he would get the story.

Suddenly he slammed his laptop shut and grinned. "Why didn't I think of it before?" He pulled on a jacket and grabbed his keys before leaving his apartment. He casually walked down to the lavished lobby of fabulous five star hotel he lived in. He walked over to the front desk and grinned. "Hey there Antonio! What's up?"

Antonio looked up at Gilbert and grinned. "Hey amigo, I'm good, where are you going?"

"Just heading out to see my little bro." Said Gilbert happily.

Antonio beamed. "Does Feliciano still live with him? If so say hello to him for me."

"Of course." Said Gilbert. "He might just be able to help me with my new book… He does still volunteer at Nightingale, right?"

"I think so…" Muttered Antonio. "What's your new book about?"

"Shredder." Said Gilbert.

Antonio paled slightly. "Are you sure? I mean he's… He's probably the most dangerous person on the planet."

Gilbert smirked. "Exactly. When I publish this I'll be living off royalties for the rest of my life."

"Right…" Said Antonio. "Because you definitely know that it'll be a best seller."

"Of course it will be!" Exclaimed Gilbert. "And you know why? I'm awesome!" He grinned and turned on his heels, heading towards the parking lot. "Are we still on for drinks later tonight?"

"Of course." Said Antonio. "Francis said he would meet us there later."

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After a quick half hour drive Gilbert was standing outside his brother's two bedroom apartment. He knocked on the door and waited for it to open. After a few seconds a short brunet man opened the door. He was wearing a light green shirt, black skinny jeans and a dark blue apron, but most noticeably was the random hair that curled out of the left side of his head. This was Feliciano.

He smiled happily at Gilbert and ushered him inside. "Hey there Gilbert, did you come by to see Ludwig?"

"Yep." Said Gilbert. He sat on the couch and sighed. "Where is he anyway? I thought today was his day off?"

"He's gone shopping." Said Feliciano as he walked into the kitchen. "Do you want some pasta?" Feliciano was a god when it came to making pasta. There was no way Gilbert could say no.

"Hells yes!" Said Gilbert happily.

Feliciano chuckled a little. "Okay!" From where Gilbert was sitting on the couch he couldn't see Feliciano. "Do you want something to drink? Beer perhaps?"

"Sounds awesome." Said Gilbert happily. He watched as a sleek grey tentacle moved to the other side of the kitchen, opened the fridge, pulled out a beer and casually moved to the couch where Gilbert was.

Gilbert grinned and too the beer. "You're getting better at this Feli."

Feliciano chuckled. "You think so? Ludwig says I'm getting lazy with them. I mean I hardly ever use them unless I need an extra hand to stir something or add a few more ingredients to the sauce." Feliciano was a Tentacula.

Tentacula's had the ability to make a maximum of ten grey tentacles appear from their body at a single time. They were human, they simply had that weird ability. It was all because of a now illegal drug that was used in abortions and relieving pain during pregnancy, known as XV3. It had a horrible habit of mutating a foetus making a few geans that would normally stay dormant activate. It was used for over a decade before it was made illegal.

This led to the XV3 generation. A group of people who had the potential to become Tentacula, but less than two precent did. Those who did become Tentacula usually became such in their early to late teens and were shunned by the rest of society. Luckily there a few good people that didn't care about that. They just saw it as something odd, but nothing to discriminate against.

Gilbert was one such person. The way he saw it, it didn't matter if you were black, white, Asian, Muslim, Christian, Jewish or anything else for that matter. As long as you treated him like an equal he would treat you like an equal, even if he was way more awesome.

He shrugged and opened his beer, taking a quick sip. "Whatever. If I was a Tentacula I could look at a million different books at once. I wouldn't need to keep flicking backwards and forwards looking for references!"

Feliciano chuckled and walked back into the lounge room carrying two bowls of pasta. "It gets a bit annoying. I mean I have to spend lots of money on shirts. I keep ripping them by accident."

"Still pretty awesome." Said Gilbert as he took the bowl. He twirled the pasta around his fork and ate it. "Delicious as always."

Feliciano beamed and ate some himself. They weren't even halfway through eating their food when a tall, muscular blond man with piercing blue eyes walked through the door, carrying a shopping bag. This was Gilbert's brother, Ludwig.

As soon as the blond saw Gilbert he frowned. "Why might you be here and why aren't you two eating at the table?"

"Sorry Luddy." Said Feliciano.

Gilbert on the other hand pouted. "What? Can't I come by and see my little bro, who just happens to be a doctor at Nightingale?"

"For the last time I'm not giving you a tour." Ludwig growled.

Gilbert stuck out his tongue. "Shut up! I just wanted to ask you if you could give me some basic information on Tentacula. It's for a new book I'm hopefully going to write."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "A book on Tentacula? Nice to see you taking a break from writing stuff on serial killers."

"Wrong!" Snapped Gilbert with a smirk. "If I get the go ahead from you superiors I can write a book on the Shredder." Feliciano nearly choked on his pasta and Ludwig paled considerably. "What?" Asked Gilbert. "What did I say?

Ludwig shook his head and walked into the kitchen to put away the groceries. "Gilbert… I'm his doctor and I know he's not stable enough to talk to people. He's clinically insane. He has to take almost lethal amounts of medication to stay harmless. He isn't ready to talk to people."

"He's also really scary!" Cried Feliciano. "There were incidences when he first went there and slaughtered three doctors there!"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"I volunteer there sometimes…" Muttered Feliciano. "As a test subject and as an art teacher… We can tell where we're around others of our kind, even if we've never seen the other use their tentacles before."

"I still want to write a book about him." Said Gilbert. "He seems interesting."

Ludwig rolled his eyes as he leaned against the doorway of the kitchen. "Even if my superiors allow you to write this book, you can't without his consent. I highly doubt that he will want to talk to you. When he isn't off his head because of his medication he's really quiet."

"Who wouldn't want a book written about them by me?" Asked Gilbert. "I'm the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt! Best seller two years in a row! As long as the name Gilbert Beilschmidt is written on the cover the book will just fly off the shelf! A freaking TV series was based off a book I wrote about that guy that murdered those cheerleaders from seven different states."

"How can you not remember that guy's name?" Asked Ludwig in disbelief. "You spent the better half of a year talking to him!"

Gilbert waved it off. "No offence, but he was a deranged psychopath that raped, butchered and ate the hearts of cheerleaders for fun. I neither care nor want to remember his name… After all, when all's said and done his story's just another pay check to me."

Feliciano frowned. "So you don't really care about the people you interview at all?"

"They are all serial killers." Said Gilbert. "It's hard to care about someone that kills people because something set them off and made them lose their shit."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Well they are still people. You can't just view them as pay ch-" Suddenly Ludwig's phone went off. He sighed and answered it. "Hello? Yes? I see… Goodbye."

"Who was it?" Asked Feliciano.

"My superior." Said Ludwig grimly. "You might just get your story after all Gilbert… That is if he agrees to it."

Gilbert grinned from ear to ear. "Awesome! This'll be the next best seller! I'll make millions! Liz will never have to make me write another book again! I can retire early! I am awesome!"

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"So someone wants to write my biography?" Asked Shredder in a small voice. The medication he was on made it hard for him to concentrate properly.

Ludwig nodded. "Yes. He is quite famous when it comes to biographies on serial killers. You have read a few of his books before. I've seen you reading them in the library."

Shredder giggled a little. "Isn't he your brother? I wonder if his eyes are really as red as his blood." He frowned and shook his head. "Sorry… medication. Hardly know what I'm saying half the time."

Ludwig frowned. Even after being the Shredder's doctor ever since he came to Nightingale a year ago he still didn't feel a hundred precent safe around him. Even if he was in a strait jacket, strapped into a chair that was bolted to the floor and had high levels of morphine pumped into his system to keep him calm and relaxed.

"Yes he is my brother." Said Ludwig sternly. "If any harm comes to him-"

"It's all my fault." Said Shredder with a grin. "It's always my fault. People die because of me. People have always died because of me. Everyone one dies, dies, dies, dies! I'm a beast that needs to be caged! A nineteen year old freak!" He started laughing. "I should just die already! No one gives a shit about me! Anyone that did is already dead anyway!" He looked at Ludwig with cold emotionless eyes. "Sure, I'll let him write my biography! Sounds like fun!"

Ludwig nodded grimly. 'I hope Gilbert know what he's gotten himself into.'


Shinigami-cat: Gilbert has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Please review!