In the early 1920s, you worked in a small, lousy cafe that your husband owned. You loathed your husband, who always abused you and took what little you made every day. So what did you do? You killed him in cold blood, baking him into the meat pies you sold, watching with sadistic pleasure as families ate your pies without ever knowing where the meat came from. It became an addiction to kill, kill, kill, and make more pies that the people loved.

However, on one fateful night as you were baking another meat pie, you heard a sound in the alleyway. When you checked, you met William, who had been slitting someone’s throat with a fishing net, blood on his hands…

Unironically, you two began working together after that night, killing whomever and whenever you two pleased. He killed the people, you baked them into pies. What a wonderful friendship! You two couldn’t help but laugh with a glass of wine in hand as the town fell into disarray, afraid of the killers that could never be found.

One night, as you were cleaning up after another busy shift, William came through the door, throwing off his black cloak and white mask as he brought in a man, who was bleeding out and barely alive. Another delicious pie, you thought.

“Hello, sweetheart!” William chirped, completely unbothered by the bloody sight, “I brought another one, just for you!”