Mr. Milfred woke up to the sound of a crackling fire. His eyes were heavy, and he heard voices of soothing elgance of the rich.

He squinted to see his face was close to a fire pit, where a Bon fire blazed in the small back yard of the victorian house. As he started to consciously breathe again, he smelled something terrible. The smell of thick flesh burning in heaps. His eyes widened seeing several headless bodies at once burning, there was even another pile as well burning...full of headless men in blue police uniforms and S.W.A.T team uniforms. He saw Mr. William's hand in the pile, still wearing the expensive watch he stole from Cullen, a recruit.

Mr. Milfred's mind opened up at the haunting images, his eyes feasted on it, with his soul collapsing in terror. He turned over, to his other side choking on emotion. He could not bear to look at the scene.

But what he saw on the other side, frightened him even more and he wanted to die right then. He did not want to live with the images his eyes showed him.

Three men, all in cloaks, were very tall. Taller than a tall man like Devon Pristine. Their skins were smooth white, a pale pretty color. Their eyes pure black with plush kissable lips. And when their mouths moved, Mr. Milfred could see their canine teeth sharp and curved, like fangs ready to bite.

Predator, was the first thought in Mr. Milfred's head, about the three cloaked men. One turned it's head towards Mr. Milfred, and gave him a snarky smirk with lick on his seducing lips.

Devon Pristine, who still hide his face with the hat, was watching as the the three men with black eyes, order other men they came with. These other men who wore their cloak's hood low, (and were a lot shorter.) were being signaled by hand gestures of the three in command, to collect several jars of hearts and bags of blood. They began to put the collection in the truck.

This was mind blowing for Mr. Milfred, he tried to process it for an explaination but his human mind couldn't. Only the author of the story could truly explain elements of this deep and truly horrifying tale.

But at last, those who tell the tales really, is through the eyes and witnesses, who do not tell what has happened here, for they are lost souls watching through the victorian house-trapped.

Souls that are fading, because people each day, are forgetting them.

Devon Pristine, walked over gracefully and proudly to Mr. Milfred, his last victim. He grabbed Mr. Milfred by the collar, who was too weak to move because of the toxin, he inhaled was too much. He could barely even slur out the words of curiosity, "What about their heads? Why do cut them off?"

Devon stopped right in front of the three strange looking men who had blank face expressions. Devon sighed and his sigh was the sound of Lucy's. He dropped, Mr. Milfred on his back, his bloody gloved fingers teased around the rim of his hat.

The workers moved around them to reach the truck as Devon slowly lifted his hat. His face revealed, Lucy's face ,stitched on his although his eyes were a piercing yellow with black pupil slits. The face was stitched on the sides of the cheek, the jaw line including part of the neck. It still looked youthful, the flesh did't even rot yet.

Mr. Milfred screamed in terror, his body shaking as his soul lost all control of a mentally stable mind. Insanity rushed in his eyes as he began to tear through his clothes in grief and confusion.

Devon looked at the three silent men who never spoke anything. His voice was through Lucy's, (he stole her voice box) "You have been looking for a man, with his back ground, also having strong sense of finding clues correct?" Devon paused looking at the blank faces. "Well, good because I found him. Letting him be insane will make him be able to solve this little case- not this very big case on our hands. I did everything in perfect timings so he could have the right insane state."

In response to Devon Pristine, the three men, all at once snapped their fingers which called to cloaked figures. The cloaked figures came obeditatly, with the big chains. They chained Mr. Milfred down and gagged him before throwing him in the truck.

The three tall leaders bowed their heads (at the same time) respectfully to Devon Pristine, before getting into the front doors of the truck. Their seasonal greetings and arrangements of the contract (with Devon Pristine), were finished for now.

Devon Pristine was once again alone with a fire pit of dead bodies. He stood and watched truck as it drove away from the victorian house. Now it was time for him to face reality, he turned around to look at the scene of bloodshed that he caused. This bloody mess stained the grass and the house.

Tears filled his eyes, tears of anger and sadness.

Hopelessly alone now once more and forevermore, he gently took off his blood stained gloves and threw them in the fire pit. After doing so, he looked at each his wrists. Which had tattooed bracelets of linked chains on both.