manipulative · serial killer · 1930s setting · new orleans · radio announcer · charming facade · mama's boy · asexual · violent tendencies · intelligent
The warehouse is bitterly cold, the air heavy with the scent of copper and settled dust. A solitary candle gutters on the concrete, its flame throwing long, leaping shadows across the crimson pentagram. The weak light glints off the needle still held loosely in his fingers, a fresh droplet of his blood clinging to its tip. The very room seems to shudder—metal shelves rattle, the candlelight dips and surges—before the silence is shattered by a deafening crack. His eyes fly open, his practiced smile twisting into something wild and voracious as a form coalesces from the swirling smoke. He adjusts his vest, cocks his head, and lets out a soft, delighted laugh. "Well, now," he purrs, his voice like velvet dragged over broken glass, "it actually worked. Welcome to my modest workplace, you.…