Case No. 7, March 15, 1997.
· The Gonn Sisters


When Mega brought them to his garage, nothing foreshadowed trouble. The girls looked around with interest
at the antique items and collections with which, in fact, he had lured them into his 'garage of death'. When little Skell approached a device resembling a guillotine, her older sister Goga immediately followed her. Mega stood off to the side, already thinking about how to finish them off without making too much noise. Both. At once... The guillotine...


—"Girls, what's so interesting?" he addressed the sisters, who were examining the device with interest while putting two and two together. A rough picture had already formed in his head, and he liked it very much. When the girls nodded in unison, he walked closer and ran his hand over the lever that lowered the blade, wiping a layer of dust from it. There was a fierce interest in Goga's eyes; she was older than her sister, into all sorts of gothic stuff, and dressed accordingly. Then she decided to joke:


—"Let's do this: I'll lie down, and you test this thing on me," she said with a smile, examining the rust-covered steel blade.


—"Let's..." the garage owner said with a creepy smile, sharply pulling the lever toward himself to test the guillotine's functionality. When the blade fell heavily with a crash, cutting through the air, the girls flinched in surprise, and Skell even squeaked quietly, pressing herself into her sister.


Time to act. Mega grabbed the girls by their arms, pulling them to himself and instinctively covering their mouths. He spoke quietly with a smile that stretched literally from ear to ear:


—"Well, do you want to see how this thing works?" Pulling a coil of rope from his trouser pocket, he first tied the sisters' hands, tying them to each other, and dragged them onto a wooden bench placed next to the device—probably there so a person could be executed in a lying position. Having stuffed pieces of cloth into the terrified girls' mouths so they would make as little noise as possible, our maniac proceeded to tie the sisters' legs, also tying them to each other.


So, now the girls lay on the bench chest to chest, their arms and legs tied together, and their heads fit comfortably on the stool that Mega had so kindly placed under them. A moment later, looking into the girls' eyes with a smile, he pulled the lever. The heavy blade fell with a crash, slicing through the sisters' thin necks, and their heads fell to the floor, rolling in different directions. Horror froze in their eyes, and Mega watched with rapture as the last sparks of their lives faded in their eyes. He grabbed their heads by the hair in both hands—Goga's head in one, Skell's in the other—and placed them on the stool in front of the guillotine. The floor in front of it was already covered in blood; the little ones' bodies tensed and convulsed. That was the last thing they did.


Raising the blade, Mega only sighed sadly at the fact that he had a long cleaning job ahead of him to wash all this away. He carefully placed the girls' bodies under the floorboards, wrapped in polyethylene. Now it was quiet here again, and clumps of their hair joined his collection—he would look at them with rapture for a long time to come...

-—

Terrible screams burst from behind the heavy door of room number 9. The on-duty psychiatrist, forcefully throwing it open, froze on the threshold. A skinny figure in a straitjacket writhed on the floor. The patient thrashed furiously, trying to free his arms, and a blissful, ear-to-ear smile was frozen on his face. Through a wheeze, he repeated something over and over, obsessed with the same horrific chant.


Case No. 17. October. 1998.
· Michi Matsushito


And a month earlier, before Mega was caught, he his last murder.


The victim was an unsuspecting young man. They had a great time, and Mega even liked him. For the first time in a long time, he... he didn't want to cause pain. But when Michi, already at the doorstep, was about to leave, something clicked in Mega's mind. The guy didn't manage to utter a word before Mega lunged at him at lightning speed, wrapping his arms around him.


—"Leaving already?"


Mega said, making a deliberately innocent grimace.


—"Yes. I have to go already,"


Michi said, stroking Mega's gray hair, looked into his eyes, and froze. There was no trace of playfulness left—only a predatory gleam and emptiness.


The thought that Michi was Asian pierced Mega's brain like a red-hot iron. His wild, painful passion wouldn't allow him to just let the prey go. He pressed into the guy's strong body, feeling the muscles tense under his palms. Tall, broad-shouldered, strong... The perfect specimen for his collection.


—"Don't go..."


Mega whispered quietly, almost childishly, closing his eyes. His fingers dug into Michi's back with such force that it hurt him.


—"But I really have to go..."


the guy said in a trembling voice. He hadn't expected such a metamorphosis: just yesterday gentle and sweet, Mega was now burning him with a predatory gaze.

"I won't let you go anywhere."


A terrifying grimace distorted Mega's face. He frantically searched his pocket until his fingers stumbled upon a cool cord—a faithful assistant in his "quiet games." "You're not going anywhere anymore."

With a sharp movement, Mega tightened the noose around Michi's neck. He only gasped for air convulsively, his eyes bulging with horror and lack of oxygen. He didn't have time to realize what was happening—it was already too late.


The deed was done.


Having laid the heavy body on the sofa, Mega sat hugging it all morning. And then—all week. He washed, dressed, and "fed" the lifeless flesh until it began to turn into a stinking mass. He talked to it, argued, shared news from the radio. Perhaps his mind had finally receded, giving in to the onslaught of his sick love.


On that cool morning, wrapped in a blanket with what was left of Michi, Mega listened to the news broadcast. From the speaker came something about a large-scale search, when the door was smashed open with a jackhammer. The police burst in and found the predator in a deathly embrace with his victim. There was no point in disputing the guilt anymore.