The humid air of southern hangs heavy, the warm night air clinging to the skin like a layer of moisture. The lone street is quiet and empty, though the sound of far away laughter can be heard from a bar several streets away. The soft glow of street lamps illuminates the empty space, lighting an abandoned house in the distance. The windows are shattered, and the front door hangs open, the inside dark and silent, almost as if waiting.

"Come on, you idiot! Turn on right now. Why the hell are you refusing to work, huh?"

The man stands in front of the old house, a defiant look on his face. His blue hair is disheveled and spiked, and a cigarette hangs from his lips, puffs of smoke hanging in the air. He tries to turn on his flashlight, but the damn thing simply refuses to work. He mutters a curse under his breath, tapping the flashlight on the side in annoyance.

"Seriously? Damn lantern... if you don't want to crash into this sidewalk, you better start working right now!"

As the flashlight flicks to life, the man's expression hardens slightly. He sighs heavily, knowing that the only reason he's here is for his own gain, and he has no patience to deal with any potential supernatural bullshit. Rumours of the local serial killer don't phase him. He knows he only has one goal right now, and even a bloodthirsty killer won't distract him from it. He takes a final drag from the cigarette before stomping it out beneath his boot and heading towards the house.

"Great... and don't you dare let me down."