My Brother was tapping his foot to a strange beat, as he often does when lost in thought, and as the great Brother I am, I decided not to bother him while he was so deeply concentrated, and instead, I walked over to Anderson who was currently shouting at one of the many forensic geeks.

“Whaddya mean there's nothing you can do?! Clean as a whistle?! We've gotta catch this motherfucker before he kills again, and I fucking KNOW he will! This is a serial killer, and you won't do jack shit to help, you useless sack of fermenting shit!!” he shouted at our Forensics lead, Victor Mannheim, who responded by mumbling “It's not our fault he was careful, what do you want us to do, forge it till we make it?” Anderson stared at Victor with a bloodlust I rarely see from him, and I can't say I was happy it was me he was trying to catch. At least he wasn't staring at me. After a few seconds too many of them staring at each other, Anderson threw his hands into the air in a “fuck it” motion, and while Victor solemnly sighed I took the chance and slid up to him almost soundlessly.

“Did you find anything?” I said, almost like a whisper, and I suppose it was in some way creepy as Victor jumped around ten meters into the air. He turned around and stared at me with a frightened and confused expression before asking “which one?” to which I answered “Check the hat. Bowler is my Brother, Trilby is his Brother.” He shrugged his head, gave a snort-like laugh and said “You think I know my hats?” laughter ensued. Clap clap clap. “No but seriously, which one are you. I cant see the difference between you, and I've worked with you for years. You'd better get like, a name-tag or something,” he said, looking a bit more serious by furrowing his brows. “yeah, sure, then we can have two “Mr. Smith,” how about it? But in all seriousness, I'm Brian, and my Brother is the one with the bowler.” he looked over to my Brother, shrugged, and answered my first question. “Well, we ain't got nuthin'. Tricky guy, no fingerprints on the barrels and nothing on the bridge. The two in the barrel are twins, according to the dental records. The witnesses found them at around five in the morning, so we had a lot of time to check 'em. You know what we find?” he paused. I guessed he wanted an answer to the question, so I pleaded ignorance. “no?” He grinned. “Twins. Motherfucking twins, baby. We've got a serial killer on our hands!” I didn't understand why he was so happy about it, but I suppose as long as that was all they had, it was fine.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat I excused myself and returned to my Brothers side. “did you hear? Twins,” I said, “As in, we've got a serial killer.” my Brother looked at me and snickered to himself, “I knew it.” the two of us continued standing around and observing the others working, but when the call of duty sounds, you can't really ignore it. My Brother and I sauntered back to the car and I drove us over to the station. After a few hours of writing and reading and reporting and talking I was exhausted, and considering all the times someone confused me for my Brother, Victors idea seemed more and more appealing.

I came home at Five 'o Clock and I threw myself into the couch to just lie down and digest what had happened. Someone found my camera, took it, and then... what, exactly? Sure, they might have watched it, but, if that's the case, why didn't they report it to the police? If one were to witness someone dumping a barrel of human paste before setting up a camera, why take the camera? I couldn't make sense of it. After a while, I even fell asleep and I awoke by an ominous gurgle in my abdomen. I remembered I was supposed to be at my Brothers place for dinner at Six, so I wondered if I could make it. One glance at a nearby clock confirmed my statement. Five to six, I could make it. I changed myself at the speed of light and before I knew it I was knocking on my Brothers door. I couldn't see it, but I felt his gaze fall on me through the fisheye, and with some clirr and clunk of various locks, the door was open and he was welcoming me inside.

“Hey Brother, nice of you show up. I've got something to show you,” he said in his usual monotone voice, the same kind that I also speak in. “And what might that be?” I said, to which he answered “I'll show you after dinner, come on inside.” The dinner was nothing fancy, a steak, some potatoes, a few beers, the usual. As we were cleaning up the dishes and letting the food settle down, my Brother turned to me once more. “It's kind of frightening, isn't it?” he said, which caught me off guard. “What is?” I asked. “The killings. You know, the twin guy. I wonder what the media will call him? The Twin-killer?” “The Double Down?” “The Gemini Killer?” “The Two-For-One?” we shared a laugh at the strange names which we oh so carefully crafted. I sort of hoped I'd be called one of them, but you cant ask for anything when it comes to the press. They'll give you what you wanted and still somehow fuck it up. My Brother smiled. “Well, whatever they call him, he's a sick fuck we need to catch.” “indeed he is, Brother.” “and I know exactly how.” “do tell, Brother dearest.” “i found something. A camera.” “Hm?” “I think it was used to film the scene. I haven't watched whats in it yet, but I'm sure it'll tell us who or at the least how.” “interesting. Are you proposing what I think you are?” “Indeed I am.” “Shall we?” “of Course.”

We seated ourselves in front of his television, and while he fumbled around with it, I thought “aha, so that's how it is,” and soon enough my Brother was finished. The TV jumped to life and emitted a “Bzzzz” noise.

The screen lit up, and the first thing we saw was a mask. It was a plain sort of ski-mask, but it was thin and made of a fine black silk that showed nothing but the eyes. The eyes were a bluish green and darting about, a grin showing beneath the mask. The mask slowly moved away from the camera and soon you could make out the surrounding area. He was standing in a stream, wearing a pair of boots and his body was dressed in all black, the only thing about him you could make out from what we had seen was his eyes. Not even his height was certain. The stream was running beneath a small bridge, under the bridge stood a barrel and in the barrel, al tough you could not see it, two young, male, almost identical bodies were slowly turning into mush. The figure turned around and walked away, staying the shadows, and since it was dark as night, he was gone before he was even out of the scene.

My Brother and I were awestruck. He looked at me, intrigued beyond belief. His curiosity had gotten the better of him and he was almost glittering with the Need to Know.

I, as you might know, did not share his feelings.

I didn't need to know.

I already did.