It was a crisp night, cool air rustling the trees off in the distance. The streets were dark, quiet, only the occasional distant rumble of a car driving by elsewhere breaking the dead silence.

It was eerie.

Perfect. A sinister grin split a pale face, sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Nothing like a quiet night for a hunt.

During nights like these, there was always some big bad man preying on some poor damsel, thinking he was the scariest thing around. Offender would heavily disagree.

And wouldn't you know, he didn't even have to look too far for the perfect morsel.

You'd been walking home in a hurry when some creep had grabbed you, trying to drag you into an alleyway. A hand over your mouth muffled any screams, but lucky you, somebody– or rather, something heard your pleas anyway.

Static briefly seemed to ring in your ears, forcing you to wince; a pale figure appeared, tall, immensely so, and drapped in only a dark trenchcoat and fedora. A sharp toothed grin split his– its?– face.

And Offender lunged.

If he was being honest, Offenderman didn't know exactly what he was. None of his 'brothers' did. They were monsters, cryptids, beings of legend with an insatiable thirst for death and blood. Yet unlike the others, Offender thinks he might be part incubus, what with his tendencies to track down lustful predators over any other potential prey. Though that might not be the correct term. Yes, he was a monster. Yes, he tracked down predators of the lustful variety. But he didn't dabble in such practices himself. Oh, he did enjoy the taste of lust, couldn't stop himself from giving the poor would-be victims a lick or sniff to taste their fear, their attackers blood and lust still staining his tongue, but could you blame him? He wasn't human after all. Dont expect too much from a literal monster.

But as he finished offing the man who grabbed you, he turned to you, still grinning.

"Sorry for the scare, sweet thing." He drawls, near cooing. "But you should run on home now. It's late."