Chapter Text
Alastor's breaths came heavily as he stared down at his freshest kill. The man in front of him was disfigured beyond recognition. Multiple stab wounds and cuts littered his body and his face was carved into a grotesque Glasgow grin.
Blood coated the floor. Alastor himself was covered head to toe in blood. He sported a crooked smile. Normally, the sight of a dead body and the feeling of warm blood on his face would fill him with a deep sense of satisfaction at having removed another revolting waste of air from his darling city, but now he felt nothing but a irritating feeling of a hunt gone wrong.
Alastor had grabbed the man from an alley way and had knocked him out using the butt of his knife. But, although Alastor had been very, very careful at covering his tracks and attacking the man where he was sure no one could see him, he had far too many close calls at being discovered, either by the coppers or innocent civilians.
Not to mention, a mixed man with skin darker than what was considered acceptable lurking around in the shadows of night was bound to draw attention. It didn't matter how well Alastor was known by the people, a colored person was a suspicious person.
This simply could not happen again. He wouldn't have his fun cut off so soon. He needed a new strategy, that much was obvious. He could no longer brute force his way through luring his victims, one or the other would fight back or he would be caught and that would just about be the end of him.
He needed to think of a new way to lure out his victims, without making it obvious to his victims and the people around him what his intentions were.
Silver-tongued as he was, he very well couldn't expect to be able to convince any man to follow him, a dark-skinned man, into the woods at the darker hours of night.
The blood on his face had cooled down and it was uncomfortable to feel. He also had to take care of the body and the blood before it stained his wooden floors.
Putting a pin in his brainstorming, he wiped the knife in hand carefully and placed it onto a table beside him.
He took the body and dumped it into the swamp waters where he was sure no one would find it, because he had no intentions of eating this man, the flesh of his was utterly unappealing to him. The gators in the swamp would definitely appreciate the meal.
Upon his return to his cabin, he painstakingly wiped down all the floors, removing every blood stain that could be used to trace his crimes back to him.
Then, he peeled off his clothes and tossed them into the fireplace which he would ignite when he came out of his shower, effectively reducing the last pieces of evidence of his crimes to ash.
The water of the shower cascaded down his back and front, the water going down the drain pink with the blood of his victim. His thoughts, as they always did when he was lost or needed guidance about something, indubitably drifted to his dearest mother, whose memory he did his best to keep in his heart.
You are such a charmer, she would giggle at him, you could use that voice of yours and the whole world would listen, ma cher. Tha face of yours would be enough to get anyone to follow you!
His thoughts momentarily stalled. He grinned wildly as his shoulders began to shake with laughter. He put his face in hands and murmered, "Clever...that's so clever."
The whole world would listen? Why, yes it did. So, why shouldn't he use his voice and his tongue and his charm to his advantage?
He thought of Mimzy, his dearest friend, and the way she would use her face and her hands to seduce the money out of some unsuspecting chap at a speakeasy.
Oh Alastor!, she'd laugh, look at yourself and tell me you don't think people want to jump your bones!
Certainly he could emulate such a response from his victims, yes? He certainly had the charm and the wit for it.
His grin broadened at the thought. Sure, seduction would be utterly revolting for someone who was above the need to indulge in such carnal pleasures, but perhaps it would be his best method at luring his next prey out to the woods.
Alastor nimbly stalked his chosen prey from a safe distance behind. His newest victim was a blonde, broad shouldered man by the name of Jason Saunders.
He had done his research on the man thoroughly, and to his anger found that he abused his wife and daughters and home, the disgusting pig. Well, his wife and daughters would fear him no more after Alastor was through.
He watched from his perch in the shadows as Jason approached an unremarkable building, which looked like any run-of-the-mill office.
Alastor knew that this was infact a speakeasy that he had caught Saunders at many times, cheating on his wife with random girls. And boys, although Saunders would definitely never admit it.
All this was known to Alastor simply by a week or so of tailing the man in his free time.
Once he was sure Jason was seated inside the speakeasy, he entered the hall, the sounds of jazz playing from the stage pleasing his ears.
He took a seat at a comfortable distance away from Saunders, and took the time to appreciate the music. He made sure that the place he was sitting in had a proper view of Saunders, who was moping about and ordering drinks and drinking them with reckless abandon. Of course, this was all the best for him.
The hours bled together and suddenly the midnight was upon them. Alastor had sat patiently, swirling his drink in one hand and keeping his eye on Saunders, who by that time had drunk enough to make even Alastor nauseous. Alastor himself hadn't had much to drink, as he always preferred to be sober or lightly buzzed on giggle water when killing.
When Saunders had finished his drink, Alastor decided it was finally time to make his move. He waited becuase it was alawys best for his vicrims to be unaware of his intentions and being drunk always worked best.
Sauntering over to the bar where Saunders was, head in his hands, Alastor sat down next to him and purred like he had seen Mimzy do so before. "Hello, handsome. What is a fine gentleman such as yourself doing here in such an establishment?"
Saunders grunted and looked up at Alastor blearily, but otherwise said nothing.
Alastor's smile remained fixed on his face.
"Whatever happened to you that made you want to drink all of your problems away?"
His eyes fell on the ring that Saunders wore on his hand. "Problems with the missus?"
Saunders sobered slightly at that. " Fuck yes. That bitch at home doesn't know when to shut her fucking mouth. Always talking and talking. Outta shut her up for good."
That last sentence was slurred out and Alastor's grin strained at such crass words at a lady. His mother had raised him much better than that, for sure.
"Oh dear, that seems quite unsightly. Why, your presence is so powerful that anyone would shut up just to admire you."
It was at this point that Alastor realized he didn't really know how to properly talk dirty. Flirt, sure. But this kind of dirty talking made him feel repulsed on the inside.
Saunders didn't seem to notice Alastor's disgust and kept talking.
"That is exactly what I fucking said. Say, your voice is familiar, do I know you?"
Saunders narrowed his eyes at Alastor and before giving him a chance to speak said, " You're that fucking radio host aren't you? My wife listens to your shit all the time! That bitch is probably in fucking love with you already."
Alastor's grin widened a bit. It was always nice to hear that people liked him. Did wonders for his ego.
"Why yes! I am Alastor, and I am the radio host you speak of. Actually, I have had a really bad day." He made sort of a pouting face. " And I was hoping to find someone to spend the night with, if you know what I mean."
Saunders looked interested. Good.
"You a fucking pansy or something?"
Oh, how Alastor wanted to slit his throat. Slice into him again and again. But Alastor was nothing if not patient. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his dress shirt, his signature red vest left at home. It was slightly demeaning to degrade himself to the level of a common harlot, but perhaps the mean justified the end he was anticipating eagerly. He noticed the way Saunders' eyes followed the motion.
"Of course. And I was hoping you would let someone , me perhaps, have the honor of warming your bed?"
The only thing keeping Alastor from cringing harshly at his own words was the look on Saunders' face. This was humiliating.
Alastor took things a bit forward. "Why, you're so handsome, I bet I could just eat you up! You do have such wonderful eyes!"
He meant it literally, but if the bulge growing in Saunders' trousers were any indication, Saunders probably took it in the sexual way. He also didn't have wonderful eyes. They were bloodshot and rheumy.
An absolute pig.
Saunders didn't look convinced, so Alastor decided to pull out the last weapon in his repertoire. His French, who he was told by Mimzy was awfully sexy.
He put on his most seductive voice, leaned in slowly and batting his eyes practically purred, "Tu es la plus répugnante et la plus vile ordure que j'aie jamais eu le déplaisir de rencontrer."
"What does that mean?", Saunders grunted.
"I said that you look very strong and are by far the most attractive man that I have ever met.", Alastor said like a lying liar who lied.
It actually meant: you are the most abhorrent and vile looking piece of shit I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.
But what Saunders didn't know would hurt him.
A little flattery and he had men like Saunders feeding from the palm of his hand.
"Alright. I don't usually sleep with your kind, but you look like you would be good in bed, eh?"
Alastor's grin widened again, not even acknowledging the slight against his skin color.
"Yes of course! I know all the best ways to make men scream."
Stab them. Torture them. Pull out their tongue and feed it to them. Cut off their hands. Rip their eyeballs out.
Somewhere between their exchange, Saunders had ordered another drink and had finished it quick, leaving him more inebriated than before.
"Why don't we just go to my cabin? It's far enough from the city that no one will be able to hear all the vile things I'm going to do for you."
Alastor meant this in obvious context, but Saunders saw it as an opportunity to hide his wrongdoings from the people's eyes.
"Let's fucking do this then. I have to home soon."
"Of course. Whatever you say, my dear."
He made his way to the door, his heart beating with anticipation as he saw Saunders pay for his drinks and drunkenly stumble along to where he was.
Saunders hooked an arm around his wast and leaned on Alastor. The touch was repulsive and it made Alastor's crawl, but the feeling of the hunt made Alastor excuse it.
"Come now handsome." He crooned. " Let's go before someone sees us."
Alastor noticed that Jason didn't tell anyone where he was going, because why would he tell anyone that he was a homosexual sleeping with a colored man? It was quite close to a death sentence in these times. Alastor could bet that even his wife and children had no idea where Saunders was.
He walked quickly, leaving Saunders to plod behind him in curved lines, the man in his drunken state not even questioning whether or not he should have been following someone put into the woods this late at night. After all, didn't he know the Bayou Butcher was out on the prowl looking for new victims?
When they reached the cabin, Alastor threw open the door and let Saunders stumble in and proceeded to lock the door behind him.
Saunders had begun to undress, but Alastor had no intention of seeing anything so ghastly, so he grabbed his knife from the table and approached Saunders.
"Now now, let's not get too excited shall we? Let me do the honors, hmm?
Saunders moved his hands away from where he was unbuttoning his shirt and turned to Alastor.
Alastor walked to him and ran a hand down his chest while the other hand had the knife kept behind his back.
"Good boy. Please, be a dear and close your eyes and enjoy what I'm about to do to you."
Saunders listened and closed his eyes, allowing Alastor to finally strike.
Bringing the hand with the knife up to Saunders chest, he dug the blade in with exact precision. Sanders' eyes flew open and he screamed.
Alastor didn't hesitate and threw Saunders to the floor, stabbing his repeatedly, until Saunders' screams faded into gurgling choking and then blissful silence. Saunders was too drunk to even think about fighting back.
The deep satisfaction that Alastor felt after a successful kill rushed through his veins, leaving him feeling heavier than any amount of whiskey ever could. A crazed smirk remained fixed upon his face.
His heart thrummed with pleasure and he began laughing with absolute genuine delight.
Perhaps, he thought as he licked the warm blood that coated the knife, this seduction tactic has some merit behind it. Never has it been this easy to capture my prey before.
He resolved to ask Mimzy for some tips and tricks the next time he saw her.
His kills continued in the same way, where he lure men out on false promises of pleasure and pain, where he got the pleasure by bringing the other pain.
But as always, good things come to an end and as Alastor heard the gunshot and the hunting dogs barking, signifying the end of his time on Earth, his last thought was:
Oh, the indignity in dying half-dressed!