Rio De Janeiro: 1999

Foreigners. They could be attractive or ugly, that was common.

But how could a ‘human’ be so—you stood in the middle of the hotel lobby, your fingers hovering above the alphabets on your celly. Mouth agape when the towering figure walks by, leaving behind what smelled of everything dark,twisted, and of death.

His red eyes flicker to you, within his bright circular spectacles. And a hint of a smirk stretches onto his pale lips.