It's 1984. You're living in a small, one bedroom apartment. You moved in just recently, as a way to be closer to your university. Every evening, roughly 7pm, you call your mother and tell her about your day. You're no country bumpkin, but the city is still intimidating. People move past each other like worker bees, or zombies. You aren't used to it although you're trying.

You sit down on your couch. Comfortable isn't a word you'd use to describe it, but you've come to view it as your little corner of the world. Makes you feel safe.

Skipping past channels on the TV, you catch a glimpse of the news.


The police have recently put out a plea for everyone to not go out at night as gang warfare grows seems to be on the rise.

"How terrible" you think to yourself. You're completely serious about it too. You were always taught love and compassion at your household. The thought of violence couldn't ever cross your mind.

But you aren't a fool. You know what the world is like, you understand the reality of violence, greed, corruption and power. All the buzz words.

It hasn't made you cynical yet.

How long would it take for someone to grow completely numb with hate? You wonder to yourself, surely there are horrible people out there, but they usually have some kind of nugget of humanity in them. So you hope, at least.

What would it take for someone to lose even that? Just a husk, filled with nothing but negative emotions.

Grief? Hate? Injustice?

Would make for an interesting character study for sure.

NEWS ANCHOR (cont'd)

... The sun will be out all week, temperatures might reach extremes, with that, we're making sure to remind everyone to protect yourself from heat strokes...

Seems while you were spaced out the news change to weather reports.

You feel like listening to some music. You switch the channel to the appropriate station.

A smile flashes across your face as one of your favorites just happens to be starting.

You set the volume higher.

High enough to not hear your own door opening.

A shadow creeping over your wall.

Just a breeze that brushes over your cheek and gets promptly ignored.

You can't hear it. You can't see it. You can't feel it.

But it can hear you. It sees you, and now it's grabbing you by the neck.

Any screams that you could've released get stuck in your throat.

Dressed in all black, a nightmare before you.


See you soon.

Cut to black. Cut to your side.

Do you think this one had a nugget of humanity in them? Or did you go cynical in bitter in your final moments?

Of course not. You were too innocent to live in this world.

One more sheep for the slaughter.



Now that you are no more, let's see if the others play their roles better.

Police cars surround the building, a crying neighbor gets shoved to the side by the officer in charge.

This isn't an isolated case, it's pretty much common knowledge at this point that someone, or some thing, is killing the citizens of this coastal city.

Despite this, it was deemed putting out a statement would be too risky. Mass panic is the last thing the Mayor needs while his own scandals are scarily close to leaking out.



Police tape surrounds the corpse, still relatively fresh.


What do we know about it?


The mother called us, said something was wrong. We told her that the kid was probably partying but she wouldn't stop pestering us. So we sent someone to check it out. Found them like this.


Guess they weren't a party spirit.

They chuckle grossly.


Hello gentlemen, I see the comedy routine you guys have is a success?

A smartly dressed man walks into the room, his black duster creates a smug aura around him, meanwhile his glasses make him just a little bit more intelligent looking.

Not that he isn't, far from it, and the officers know it.

And they hate it.


Solomon, what the fuck are you doing here?


Investigating. Something neither of you seem to be doing. Now let me in.

The officers clench their teeth in anger.


Chief said to not let pansies onto the crime scene, sorry bud.

They laugh to themselves.


Right, right. Talk to this then.

He shows them a search warrant signed by both the mayor and police chief.


What the fuck! This is a fucking fake you fraud.


I dare you to call the mayor, see if he'll be happy to be disturbed. Now outta the way.

He pushes past them as they're left in shock staring at each other.

The body reeks of death, Solomon thinks to himself. More than usual murder scenes. This one is more than murder, it's more like defamation, deliberately set up to destroy the innocence of whoever this person was before death.

SOLOMON has smelled this kind of stench before. He's been on the trail of this one for a few months now. While the method doesn't match between the kills, the choice of victims matches.

They're innocent. Old grannies, teenagers, single mothers. People with close family connections.

People who not only have a reason to live, but also people who give others reasons to live.

SOLOMON (cont'd)

... He's not getting any sloppier.

He's dealt with evil. Hell, he's dealt with the kind of evil some people don't believe exists.

But that doesn't mean this one will be any easier.

SOLOMON walks towards the dresser and sees an open bible. Bookmarked very early on.

SOLOMON (cont'd)

Genesis, huh?

He smiles slightly to himself, but it's a bitter smile. The victim seemed to be studying something relating to the Bible, they took very detailed notes, especially focusing on the character of Cain and Abel.

Next to the word "Cain" a childish doodle of an angry looking man.

SOLOMON (cont'd)

They got that right.



It stinks here. Distinctly smells like a highly potent mixture of drugs, alcohol, sweat and blood. The street are bathed in gaudy neon lights.

People push past each other, practically tripping on themselves. Despite it being the dead of night, the city seems more alive than ever.

A shriek temporarily shifts everyone's attention to a small, unassuming night club on the side of the street.

And not soon after, a thunderous crack of glass echoes out, as a person falls out of a second story window.

Their head clips the top of the window. This sends their body spinning in a way that makes them land practically face first into the hard concrete.


Don't fucking come back here creep!


Man, you fucking killed him, we're in deep shit.


Call the ambulance?


God dammit Joe! The Boss will be so fucking mad.

People start to surround the corpse splattered over the sidewalk.

Out of the alley a small child runs out. Clearly poor, this kid practically grew up on the streets. Stealing to survive and all that.

And today is no different, as a passed out, or perhaps dead, man is the perfect victim for theft.

Well most men would be, but not this one.


Get your paws off me, dog.

CAIN forcefully grabs the wrist of the boy and pulls him closer.

His face is positively destroyed. Blood leaking out of his nose and mouth. His forehead has received a powerful cut, almost down to the bone.

CAIN looks like a car accident, feels like one too.

The child runs away screaming.

CAIN (cont'd)

The fuck you all staring at? Get back to your shit!

The crowd visibly jumps at this sudden eruption of anger and quickly move back to their activities.

The tall man practically scrapes himself off the ground, leaving some gross residue.

He's wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, black leather pants and boots. A respectable good-for-nothing's attire.