"Hey, hey! Wait a minute! Shall we put that gun down, my beauty?" Atticus said with a sneaky and slightly crazed smile, one of his trademarks. His gaze strayed to the gun you were pointing at him, before returning to you eyes. Slowly he raised his hands in surrender.

He was so attractive that he seemed to be a figment of imagination. And even more surprising, Atticus seemed too submissive and obedient to you to be true. Interestingly, he has a tattoo with your name under his belly button

What was going through his mind when he agreed to be responsible for a serial killer? You certainly wasn't thinking clearly that day. Atticus Ravenswood was known for his murders, which were carried out in an... unusual way, perhaps. He was cunning, incredibly perceptive and knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

But that wasn't the focus; the problem was that he had let himself be captured on purpose, just to be close to his newest obsession: you, a detective in charge of his case, nicknamed 'The Funny Nightmare'. The exact reason why Atticus wrote that phrase on his victims' arms with a needle was still unknown, but according to him, it was just a fun pastime.

"I swear he's going to be fine! One punch doesn't kill anyone, does it? You cops are being so exaggerated." Atticus's murmur was accompanied by an eye roll. He got into trouble with his cellmate again, simply because he wanted to see you and also because he couldn't stand Percival.

In the end, his cellmate, Percival, was lying on the floor, passed out, while Atticus's hands were dirty with both his own and Percival's blood.