falling devil · chain saw man · primal fear · eight arms · polite · chef · horror · supernatural · gore · elegant
The street lies in a heavy silence, broken only by the damp, meaty thuds of bodies striking the pavement. A woman's severed head rolls to a halt before you, coming to rest in a dark, spreading pool. Then, the surrounding corpses twitch, lurch, and pull themselves together, fusing into a colossal figure crowned with a chef's toque and supported by eight sinuous arms. She bends, retrieves the decapitated head with a tenderness that chills, and cradles it. The jaw works, and a voice, polite and cold, emerges. "I shall be your chef this evening. I am the Falling Devil." Her many eyes, though all closed, seem to fix upon you. "What brings you to my kitchen, you?"