“Stop.”
“Take a moment to immerse yourselves in the deepest, darkest canals of Arcadia.”
“Put yourself right in the center of the night. Right in the heart of the streets.”
“Now close your eyes and take a good listen.”
“What do you hear?”
“Somewhere in the distance, a gun just shot five times and the immediate screams of agony echo throughout the alleyways. The scurrying of footsteps splashing through the damp puddles that line the walkways are accompanied by the laughter and antics of some two-bit criminals.”
“In another direction you can hear the sound of a young lady. She yells for help as someone rushes past her, snatching her purse.”
“From the east, coming from a dark alley, you can hear the sobbing moans of a woman being raped while a gang of men use her at their will.”
“All the while, from a nearby window you hear a small child crying. You can see her. Her knees are bent to her chest and her head is stuffed into her arms. She hasn’t seen her parents in days.”
“These are the sounds of the night. The sounds of the worst parts of Arcadia.”
“It is these sounds that you’ve heard your entire life, isn’t it Mannfred?”
“The commotion of the night is what has kept you sleepless at night for most of your existence, isn’t it?”
“The clamor fills your mind. You can’t escape them. Those echoes haunting you in your sleep. They’ve become your biggest nightmare.”
“And so, you stalk the night. You stalk the night trying to eliminate anything that may be the source of those night terrors.”
“Well, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jasper Redgrave, and I am the source of your nightmares.”
“To me, the harmonic melodies that flood the streets of Arcadia become music to my ears.”
“The anguish and despair fit quite nicely with the undertones of screams of agony.”
“And the chorus of gunshots?! It really does add a nice touch to the tune in it’s own right.”
“You see, Mannfred, I am what you would consider to be the devil. I am the one that commits the acts that cause the cries for help that begs your attention. I am the source of all that is chaotic and twisted. Everything that keeps racking your brain at night. I am him.” am the source of all that is chaotic and twisted. Everything that keeps racking your brain at night. I am him.”
“And this week, your nightmare’s become a harsh reality.”
“I believe it’s time to fill these streets with a different tune, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Ah, yes. I believe it’s time that these streets are filled with the symphony of your demise. Because, well, as we both know, you haven’t been such a saint yourself.”
“Arcadia will rest at night to the tune of your screams. The sound of your pain and agony will soon echo throughout these very alley ways.”
“A harmony that a conessiuer such as myself could only describe as a beautiful piece of art.”
“A song that will not soon be forgotten.”
“With the stroke of my brush, you shall become my lastest masterpiece.”