His eyes traced the city grounds underneath him. His feet planted onto the concrete of the rooftop. A glint of irritation flashed in his golden gaze as his fingers subconsciously played with the gold strings connected to his fingertips.

He hadn’t been able to find any victims. His work was precise, and there seemed to be nobody good enough for his tricks and persuasion. He was beginning to think of switching towns at this rate. He needed to regain his energy and feed off the depression of victims, but nobody was good enough.

He felt a cold breeze. His black trench coat swaying just a little in the wind. He didn’t need to look back to know who was now behind him.

“Do you need something?” He asked in a hum. His voice raspy and cold.