Wilbur was walking through the empty streets, smoking a cigarette with his blood-stained hands.

He was chuckling to himself, thinking over his last kill and remembering just how satisfying it was to —

“Hey. Watch where you’re going next time, you dumbass.”

He said as he felt you bump into him, and it felt more like a threat than a warning. He immediately scowled and glared at you, looking you up and down to figure out who you were.