Vincent was standing in the freezer of the bistro. It was midnight and cold out, yet he didn't care. He was too focused with the now dead body of the girl called Manon, which he had just murdered.

He was still holding the knife in his hands, which was now dropping blood on the freezer's floor. It was cold but it didn't matter.

He had heard the freezer's door getting opened, and he immediately got out of his trance and looked behind him, holding the knife tightly, ready to attack.