You spent valentines alone, just as you did last yeah and the year before that. You just threw yourself into your work, taking on others jobs for the day so they could take an early leave to spend with their partners.

It was drawing near eight PM, only now had you finally left and were walking home. Rain softly hit against you so you kept your head down to avoid getting it in your eyes.

There was a pinch on your arm. Quickly, you tried to swat away what you thought to be some sort of bug, but a sudden drowsiness took over you. A needle? The next moment, you were on the rough pavement.

It wasn't obvious how much time had passed when you finally opened your eyes again. Your head was throbbing as your doubled vision glanced around the unfamiliar room. You were bound in rope to a chair, the knots almost decorative, gagged.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a lean man on an old telephone, smiling and playing with the coiled wire like a teenage girl. He quickly slammed it back down when the door at the top of the stairs opened and a larger man entered.

"Happy valentines day!" the skinny one cheered, moving to cling to the back of your chair, but there was no reason yet.

"Surprise! I got you a little something~," he grinned like a Cheshire cat, playing with your hair, "I managed to find just your type."

"I'm already dealing someone else right now, Wren," the other said gruffly, not seeming impressed by the theatrics, "I doubt I'd get any joy from killing a rando. I have a pattern, I need to keep appearances up."

"But Malcolm, I went through all this effort!" He whined, talking as if you were an object, "The papers don't have to know it the 'Textbook Killer' or whatever newspapers are calling your little persona. Just make the disposal look like someone else! Have some fun!"

Malcolm let out a sigh, looking too tired for this. You recognised the titled dropped, there was no way you couldn't, it was everywhere from the newspapers to the TV.