Murder. Because it's all I have to give. (#2)

Trey Kirchoff awoke to the sounds of spring in his head, but when he looked out the window silent winter lay frozen and pale all around him.

He cleared the vestige of spring from his mind. If he was to capture the footage needed today there was no time to waste on phantom seasons.

He donned his heaviest coat and ventured with his camera out into the cold morning, wishing the sun would fulfill its empty promise of heat.

His lonely trek took him two miles through a frost covered greenbelt and down to a clear frozen lake, home to the snow birds he was seeking.

The endangered White Grendel migrated here in winter laying eggs deep in the frozen bushes and incubating them until they hatched in spring.

The rare bird had obtained an almost mythical status, seldom seen, but Trey had sighted them here as a child and was certain he would again.

He set up his camera on the bank of the water and huddled down behind it for a long wait. He chainsmoked as he patiently waited for his cue.

After hours of silence a faint rustling sounded, betraying the birds locale. A glint of a metallic beak caught his eye from across the lake.

He grabbed his camera and quietly inched across the thick ice that promised to support him. He slid once before reaching the opposite shore.

He sank to his knees and the ice cracked silently, giving no warning as it broke and trapped him below the mirror of the surface til spring.

Murder: Because It's All I Have To Give. (#1)

I watch him. I know his entire routine. The duration of his average bowel movement, how long he brushes his teeth, how often he masturbates.

I follow him on facebook, twitter, and lost.fm. He doesn't know my plan. He's never even met me. But soon, that will all change. We'll meet.

I developed the plan before I decided on a subject. It was simple: 1. Choose a Subject. 2. Collect Data. 3. (and here's where it gets good)

I have taken the cord from a video game controller. He likes video games. With that I will garrote him until he passes out cold as a junkie.

Once I have him in the room that I've prepared I'll use the same ligature to bind him to the metal pipe that runs up the center of the room.

There I'll have a palette of tools for my endeavor. A full pack of smokes to create patterns on his skin, a brand I've created just for him.

I've filed nails so finely that when driven into his skin he'll not bleed. Electricity run into them through wire will cauterize the wounds.

I'll then remove the nails to reveal a small design made of perfect windows into his body, clear enough to peer into and investigate inside.

The best for last. I've fitted small headphones to an amp capable of powering a tone at 200 decibels, all that's necessary to destroy a man.

The blood that exits from the ear will create the final splash of color, but first to meet him. Travis Laird. BillZilla. Now! He approaches!