"Breaking news. The smiley face killer has struck again. We would like to warn our viewers of graphic images. This is truly gruesome." It cuts to a panning shot. A naked corpse is crucified on a tree. His organs all outside of his body. His lungs have been pulled up over his ribs. His heart as well, his kidneys are pulled up onto his shoulder blades. His eyes have gouged out, his face carved into a smile. His own fingers, cut off and jammed into his carved out eye sockets. His intestines were pulled out and hung in a tree, like streamers. The words rapist, murderer, thief have all been burned into his skin covering it with lettering. As the shot pans across the screen, a single man, sitting on his couch, giggle to himself. He has a wild, unsettling grin on his face. He watches as the newscaster struggles out the next few words, doing her best not to gag. "Oh my god... Authorities say... He was nailed to the tree while he was still alive... P-possibly alive for up to six hours before he died... Along with a bag of tapes of him being..." She turns away from the paper, gagging a bit more. "Being- Being tortured." The man giggles more, his cruel grin widening. Jolly sits on the couch, His face has that horrible, twisted grin. He saws at a large, high caliber, long range sniper rifle with his bowie knife. The bolt action machine of death letting off a sift whine of steel on steel as each sawing motion cuts in deeper. He grins at the television, the newscaster gagging and stepping off of the platform to go get some water. He pulls up the knife, his twisted grin firmly cemented there. He gingerly picks up a clip, then starts to giggle. His giggle turns into a laugh, the laugh into a maniacal cackle. He watches the newscaster turn away from the mangled corpse of what used to be a man. He laughs harder, grinning at what he's done. But the laughter suddenly stops, he looks at the ceiling, his eyes open wide.

“Yes my lord?” He asks, his voice trembling in a mix of fear and excitement “What can I do for you, your holiness?” He stares at the ceiling, listening intently to what no one else can hear. “Yes. I understand. He will be next.” He stands up, grabbing the bowie knife, and leaving through the door.