{trigger warning: torture, murder, disembowelment, blood,

Bill turned out not to be the killer after all, but Tyler didn't know that until afterward. Or maybe he did know it subconsciously, and he just didn't care. That seemed more likely.

He didn't kill his new family, which made sense since he didn't kill Josh and his sisters the first time around, so why would he do it the second?

It turned out that the man the LAPD had in custody was a hit man for a gang Bill owed money to. Bill was hiding from the gang. The LAPD had enough evidence to lock him up for the rest of his life.

For some reason didn't really mind essentially killing him for nothing. Bill was still guilty of allowing his family to be killed, and for killing Josh's mother. There was a place reserved in hell for Bill, and Tyler felt proud to be the one to send him there.

Tyler knocked on Bill's motel door, knowing he wouldn't recognize him. He had his hand over his gun, the other holding his badge. Dallon had told him that Bill was staying in some musty motel just outside of Los Angeles. Instead of telling the others, like Tyler would've before, he pretended to go to the hotel room and left for Bill's.

"What do you need, agent?" Bill asked gruffly as soon as he opened the door.

The grin on Tyler's face hurt. He hadn't smiled like that in months. "We have reason to suspect you in the murders of Alexandria Dun, along with your two son James and Mallory Henson."

"What? They're dead?" There seemed to be genuine surprise and dismay in his voice.

"Use his emotions against him," Brendon whispered. "Get inside."

"May I come in? We can discuss the manner of their deaths, but unfortunately I'll still have to bring you in to the station. Don't worry, it's just for procedure. We have someone in custody."

"Of course." Bill opened the door the rest of the way, allowing Tyler inside.

He looked around casually, waiting for Bill to shut the door. When he did, Tyler turned and pointed the gun at Bill's forehead, reveling in his panic as all the color left his face.

"Y-you're not a real FBI agent, are you?" He asked, fear gleaming in his eyes.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Oh, I am. I'm just pissed. Do you remember your son, Josh Dun?"

"Josh? What about him?" Bill's voice shook.

His grin spread wider. "I'm his fiancé, and I'm here to make you pay. Karma's a bitch, ain't it?" He itched to stab him, but held himself back.

Before Bill could scream, Tyler knocked him out with the butt of his gun. He dragged his body onto the bed, barely having the strength to pick him up, and tied each one of his limbs to a bed post.

Brendon walked around the bed, nodding. "What are we thinking? Should we force him to write an apologetic letter? Or take him apart and try to put him back together like a puzzle piece?"

Tyler pulled out a knife from his coat pocket, the sharpest one he could find at the flea market, and dragged the tip just barely over his finger. The blade split the skin like ribbons. He chuckled and wiped his finger off on the bedsheets.

"I'll lock the door and gag him. You just fuck off. I think I have an idea for this bastard."

By the time they were ready, Bill had come to, his screams muffled by the rag in his mouth. Tyler sat between his legs, playing with the knife.

"You know what I love about killing? It's so hard not getting caught, that everything I do is important. Not a single thought goes to waste."

Bill quieted down, still mumbling. Tyler, who was curious, moved the rag.

"Y- You're fucking insane," Bill wheezed, gasping.

"Oh, I'm not insane," Tyler corrected. "Insanity implies that I have a disconnect from reality, delusions, irrationality. I am not insane. Im perfectly aware of everything I'm doing. I've merely transcended the mental barrier of morality. It might be wrong to kill, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy making you suffer for all you've done."

He stuffed the rag back in Bill's mouth and started to get to work.

First, Tyler cut as many lines as he could fit into his legs, leaving half an inch between each incision. It must've taken an hour, he thought, but he couldn't tell what time it was. When he moved up to Bill's arms, the bed had been completely soaked red.

Slice, slice, slice. Tyler was humming to himself, watching Bill's chest raise up and down rapidly.

"Are you seriously singing the dismemberment song?" Brendon laughed.

"What?" Tyler retorted with a grin. "It's an appropriate song for thus moment."

Bill was still screaming into the rag, tears rolling down the side of his face. Tyler dragged flat end of the blade down his chest before plunging it into his waist. He pulled the knife out stabbed again, leaving a neat row of stabs in his abdomen and up to his collarbones.

At one point, Bill stopped breathing, but Tyler didn't really care. He kept stabbing, his rage slowly sleeping into his conscious.

This is the bastard that ruined Josh. He took away his mother, his baby brother, his life. Tyler yelled and his vision went red.

He woke in a puddle of blood on the ground, sticky and cold. Bill's insides hung around the walls, his intestines stapled into the wall. Tyler had a stapler in his hand.

Blood soaked his arms up to the elbow. Tyler stood unsteadily, dropping the stapler and the rje back of his hand, groaning. "Ugh. I think I'm getting used to the taste."

"Are you done?" Brendon asked.

"Yeah, for now." Tyler threw the knife aside. "Until the next one."