Kyson was a man of about 30, young and energetic. However, nothing about him was bright. Kyson was sick. Not physically, no. But in the mind, Kyson had Schizophrenia, a mental disorder that caused him to constantly live separated from people. He saw things sometimes, things which bothered him. He's grown up hearing voices and seeing things that aren't there, as well as living with an abusive parental figure. All in all, Kyson hasn't had the most caring of people around him. Really not such an unusual thing for people. But the chemical imbalances in his head, combined with abusive relations with other had produced a sick man. Kyson was simple publicly. Worked at a library around the street, rarely spoke and rarely socialized. He lived in a small apartment. No real friends.... And he'd never go back to visit any blood relatives due to their treatment of him as a boy. Prone to violent fits of rage, and episodes of hatred and ill-will to all around him, and hating most people instantly, he was perfectly accustomed to enjoying his life by himself.
He was altogether lonely. But that was okay. It made his hunts easier. He wanted attention all his life, having rarely gotten any. He wasn't very attractive, with low hanging black hair and a plain gaunt face that was far too angular to be pleasing to a regular persons eyes. He'd never been in a relationship, nor had he ever had much of a friend. But it was all the same for Kyson, for he had plenty of people to speak to. Even if no one could see them but him... He had conversations with apparitions and shadows of persons that may once have been. Or may be nothing but figments of his broken yet vivid imagination. In his personal opinion though, he had a connection with those of the dead. He liked dark things, dead things, lonely things... He was attracted to the darkness.
Little did he know he frequently was the darkest thing around.
Anyway, now that we've met the strange figure, perhaps it's easy to imagine how frightening he could be in the right situation.
Kyson wandered the alleyways, his long hunting knife in his hand, looking about for the victim he'd been trailing. Kyson wandered through the place after his prey, his greasy hair slicked back, his eyes dull and dark as they glanced about, always watching for potential witnesses. Nothing tonight. His chosen target was a very handsome man he'd overheard at the small bar Kyson sometimes lurks at. He was a popular man, with brown hair and bright green eyes. Kyson didn't even know his name... But Kyson knew the man was some sort of model-to-be. Had a lover, had a good job, a physicality and face thought attractive by the public. This man was everything Kyson wanted...
And so he'd steal his face, as he did with the several others Kyson had found and murdered. He was a killer, and every few weeks he'd go on a hunt... This target was easy. He was drunk after a night of socializing and chatting. Kyson had his gloves on, and was to burn the large cloak he had on after the deed was done. Surely there'd be blood, and he didn't want to be at all linked...
Up ahead, the brown-haired man stopped for a minute to lean against one of the walls, before promptly throwing up. The man had been walking home, and had chosen this faster way. He was planning on going home and watching something on television. He rose after a minute of hurling and feeling generally regretful of his binge, before turning around. As he turns, his eyes go bug-eyed and wide, and he gasps. He saw a man in a large black cloak, a huge knife in his hand, with his hood down low. He saw the glint of the man's glasses from beneath the hood, moonlight reflecting from it, before he felt cold steel enter him. Stabbing him in the stomach again and again. He didn't even know how many times. He just heard the hooded figures pants and grunts, then he felt his vision blacken and the pain dull down before stopping... He felt himself slumping down to the ground...
And that was that.
Kyson took out a larger blade, a saw. And in a few short minutes, he had decapitated his target. He grabbed the bloody head close and hid it beneath his billowing cloak before walking away from the site, his fingerprints nowhere to be seen.
He snuck back home about 11:20,
whistling gleefully and quietly as the moonlight shone down upon his bloody cloak. He felt good. He felt GREAT. This felt amazing! It did every time... He would need to rest though. He was exhausted. He always was after a hunt. Tomorrow, he'd get to work on skinning the man to make the mask he desires... But for now, sleep and disposing of the evidence. He threw the cloak in the washing machine, and cleaned his blades. He then placed the head in a large baggy and stuck it in his closet, behind his sweater rack. It'd wait there till morning. He continued to whistle as he continued his tasks.
Kyson wandered off to take a quick cold shower, (For he couldn't afford many hot showers due to his low income.) He finished, then put on his sweater and pants again. He wasn't going anywhere, but he liked his clothing. They were comfortable to him, like the embracing arms of a companion. He had killed in them, and that comforted him. He wasn't visited by any of his usual ghostly companions tonight, and he heard no voices. He rarely heard voices after he killed. He was content. He made sure his pistol, rifle, and knife collection was secured before finally setting into bed. He turns off his lamp, and slowly falls asleep to disturbing dreams of blood and death...
Re: [Nexus] Riverside 14
