ChatNoir walked into his hollow apartment. He threw his coat, fedora, and mask to the floor. Angry at himself. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and slumped himself onto his couch.

"Fuck." He found himself irritated with his actions as he ruined another playmate. He stared at his right hand and gripped the air. He found it thrilling to watch the lights leave his victims eyes, an enjoyment he shared with his father.

To feel her life slowly slip away with just the grip of his hand. No weapon, and such little pressure to snuff out such a frail life. As simple as breaking glass, just a little pressure. Or suddenly being thrown onto the wall making a mess that would be done out of careless passion.

"Because of that…." CRASH! Whiskey dripped off the wall that was once white. "BITCH." He spat as his whiskey was a drink that was an ill pairing with vile memories. Memories not of Marinette, he was quite fond of those. Memories of a woman whose voice plagued his thoughts.

He had murdered a few women before as he got caught up in his own traumas. The voices in his head that told him that all this was okay. One justifying murder and other justifying his disgusting appetite. To pass on his trauma onto others in hopes that he would go away at least for a moment.

A seductive older woman's voice whispered in his ear. "Tell the whore what you want." "Make the whore beg for more." "Devour her."

"SHUT UP!" He yelled knowing that there was no one but him. "SHUT UP!

His phone buzzed and he looked at who the text was from. Zoé Lee, a woman that was around his age who was like an annoying little sister.

My snake escaped from his terrarium. Now he's at the vet. A sad emoji followed her text then another text bubble followed. There's a pretty garter snake. She has got a kink in her tail. I wonder why her owner didn't euthanize her. Maybe the owner is too attached?

He laughed at her metaphor as it would not be favorable if there was a text trail of their violent behavior on their personal phones. Maybe….

A distraction that was provided before he did something unnecessarily stupid. Perhaps shoot up a store for the hell of it? Or kill an associate of his father? "He'd actually like that."

His father disliked his current business associates. Associates that were embezzling from the company, Gabriel. A brand his father built from the ground up, only to be tainted by the taste of greed. His father was greedy but he had a line that his associates ignored. "Off with their heads." His father would mutter.

He went into his bathroom as his outfit smelled of blood, sweat, cigarettes and sex. He gritted his teeth as the stitches pulled. "They did not bother me when I was dick deep in…" He pressed the wounds on his forearms. Even though it made him wince. "She did a pretty decent job."

He stared at himself in the mirror, half of his pinstriped suit discarded onto the floor. "You look like your mother." A voice not his, whispered into his ear. A sentence that was spoken by a man, a sentence that he had heard many, many times but he forgot when he first heard it.Forgot who first said it or when he started to hate himself for looking like her.

He did not know if he ever wanted to remember as when he tried he usually hurled whatever was in his stomach. "Fuck." He pushed his hair back wishing he could look like anybody else but his mother. Anyone. He sat his pistol on the sink. He stared at the slight maroon color on the barrell. Dried blood from his little experiment.

"Garter snake?" He traced the barrel lightly so as not to damage his souvenir. "More like guinea pig."

He stripped everything else off and blasted the heat of the water to its highest setting. He closed his eyes trying to block everything out but the lines for the scene he was to shoot tomorrow.

But his mind recalled how Marinette grabbed his collar and was full of fire. Even when she had no way to hide anything and he took away her security, she yelled at him and called him names. Ass, dumbass, and psychopath. Titles that he was man enough to attempt are true. Then to have her change her tune when he laid his hands on her. To feel her heartbeat pulse with fear.

"Fuck." He stated a word that seemed to be his favorite the more he was alone with himself. He took his hand and moved it onto himself. His other hand held his bodyweight away from the black tiled wall as he allowed himself to fall into fantasies. He wondered what it would be like if it was her hands instead of his.

The up and down of her unsteady hands mixed with the cerulean blues that would plead with him without words. "Perhaps she'd curse me more?" He smirked as he would not object to shutting her up. As he had a hold of something that would work perfectly as a gag. Her eyes watery as he would feel himself deep into her throat.

"Shi…iiittt." He moaned as he hated doing tedious work by himself. He much preferred a partner. "FUuuck… mmeee." He said catching his breath after he came onto the shower wall. Evidence that went quickly down the drain.

"I.. I…should not have thrown away my toy if I wasn't done playing with it." "I am not going to dig it out of the trash." He huffed trying to gain his composure. He knew this was just an obsession that would dissipate over time.