The sun sets in the background, the mysterious man walking away from the golden-orange scene. His hair is a raven black, messy and uncontrolled. His eyes display fatigue, his lips lined with the ghost of a smile. The baggy black shirt, and the casual jeans fit his personality to almost a 10. He was a lazy fellow, the kind that doesn't care about almost anything. But, mentally, he was crazy, insane, a super-genius of massacre. Nobody knew though. He seemed like a normal slacker to a lot of passerby. None even suspected his acts of torture, violence, even sadism. He enjoyed bringing pain to others. Mostly physically. He enjoyed the look on his victims faces as he cut, sliced, chopped, slashed. He enjoyed the sorry little attempt they made to break free. He enjoyed how horrified and screwed up their faces got when they witnessed him inflict pain on himself. But he didn't mind the pain, he loved it. It was something he'd liven with ever since he could remember. He was used to it.
The man walked down the sidewalk, only a couple of blocks from his destination. He smiled that terrifyingly creepy smile at every other person that he passed. They got scared and increased speed to get to where they were going. He just stuck his hands in his pockets, mentally smirking, and went about his own business.
Today he dressed up a little. Instead of the usual black shirt and jeans, he sported a bright red polo, his favorite color, and some better looking denim jeans. He still wore the chain, his piercings, and his wristband with a skull and crossbones sprawled on it. His hair was combed, but still messy. His emerald green eyes bore into the pupil of the people whom his smile affected so greatly.
Now, he was only just one block away from the poor lady that would inevitably suffer from this strangers sudden wrath. He sped up, anxious about the events that he would make happen. Anxious about torturing her until she begged him to stop. He couldn't believe that the authorities hadn't caught him yet. But, he did pick people to satisfy his sadistic urge on in a scraggly old town, that was weather worn and poor.
Before he could think anymore about the upcoming events, the run-down blue door he was searching for was in sight. Excitement converging with anxiousness, he walked to the fence that connected next to the one by her house. The abandoned house next to her was terribly weather worn, it looked like it had even been burned a couple of times.
Making sure no one saw of his trespassing, he jumped the fence centered in the shade. Walking around to the back door, he pulled out the key he had found when he pick pocketed her earlier in the week, then followed her back to her house to see where she lived, he gently, so as not to make any noise, unlocked the door. The woman seemed just the easiest target. Frail, skinny, skittish, and shy. He just couldn't pass up the opportunity.
He walked into the structure, spying the woman curled up on the couch, reading a novel. She didn't even hear him let himself in. He creeped up to the piece of furniture, clasping his hand over her mouth to mute the scream, and touched her pressure point. She passed out under his touch to her neck, and he dragged her off to the basement, where he would drag several weapons later.