>>1904
You want a killer? Here's a killer.

K/V: Killer
Name: Roman
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Characteristics: A charismatic Lecturer from Moscow's Institute of Technology with a sadistic secret. Short crew cut blonde hair, average height, bulky build. He have a dark obsession with extracting intestines or the female reproductive system from women before snuffing them, and storing the organs inside jars of formaldehyde, labelled with photos of their former owners as trophies.

Scene:

1) He convinced you to help out with his research, you accidentally stumble upon his 'collection', he adds you to his collection.

2) You are an journalist/lawyer/police officer, you cross path with him during your investigation, he pays you a visit when you are least expecting him.

3) Be creative!



>>1904
"Are you sure we are going the right way?" The redhead tomboy in the passenger's seat asked inquisitively as she casted a brief glance at her watch "The concert starts in 15 minutes."

"Any minute now, I'm taking a shortcut to beat the rush hour traffic." I replied with a tone of reassurance in my voice.

Let's get this straight. We weren't going to the concert, I'm not a real taxi driver, and she'll soon join my other victim - lifeless and stashed away in the boot.

I drove to a deserted street and parked the car beside a broken street lamp, everything's a lot less inconspicuous under the cover of darkness.

"What the fu-" Her angry voice trembled as she reached for the door handle, her eyes widened in surprise when she realized that the doors were locked, the expression of surprise was replaced with pure terror when I wrapped my glove clad hands around her tender little neck.

"LET GO OF ME YOU SICK FU- ARRGHHHH" A scream of agony escaped her lips as I clenched down on her windpipe, the sound of cartilage breaking inside her neck was music to my ears.

Another shrill croak of intense pain escaped the little redhead's throat when I further tightened my grip, tears of agony and regret flowed freely from her beautiful green eyes, and her cheeks began to sweat from the intensifying pain.

She struggled like an animal caught in a trap, legs kicking wildly while she clawed at my gloved hands with her well manicured nails (There's a reason I wore thick gloves). But her strength was fading fast, her struggle soon became mere shudders as her eyes lost focus and rolled upwards, her swollen tongue dangled out of her mouth.

She twitched violently for the last few seconds of her life, before slumping head first into the glovebox. A stream of clear urine ran down her toned thighs, sticking her black shorts to the contour of her legs.

I stuffed her piss stained corpse into the boot, and drove away into the night. Looking through her wallet, apparently her name was Keira, a cute name for a feisty redhead.