To the Candyman

Named after the first unfortunate suicide in New Haven, she was a sister in the church who got to close to the abyss. This part of the city is the poorest of the neighborhoods and has a high crime rate. It is North East of the city, a few miles from Murkwood cemetery and the Suicide Cliffs themselves.
Eternal Darkness
Posts: 26
Joined: Wed Jul 19, 2017 4:55 am

To the Candyman

Postby Eternal Darkness » Thu Sep 21, 2017 1:41 am

The mask is a distraction. People see the mask and they focus so much on the weirdo running around the streets at night wearing it that they don't think about why you're doing it. They focus on figuring out who you are, on pursuing the mystery. That kind of distraction, that focus on the mask and the man behind it takes the focus of the bad people off of the innocents they'd normally be busy victimizing. I know i've been making some dangerous enemies with the things i've been doing and i'm okay with that. Every thug, rapist and predator I put in the hospital or remove from the mortal coil is one less hurting New haven. And as a side benefit, they are starting to fear me. That is exactly what I want - for them to feel abject terror when i emerge from the shadows and they see the mask and feel my eyes stripping away their courage as i pass judgement on them for their misdeeds. Every time they step out to do the wrong thing i want them to think: What if i meet the man in the mask? I want the criminals, the predators, the thugs who prey on the weak and helpless to think twice and whisper fearfully amongst themselves as they wonder: Will this be my last night alive?

That's where you come in, my wayward cousin. I'm coming for you, not because you fed and must feed as we all have to. But because you went beyond being a mere Beast and became a truly irredeemable monster. You didn't teach a lesson; you broke a soul. You weakened someone for a quick meal and made fear into a cheap, meaningless thing. You stained the reputation of every single one of us. So throw all the minions and mooks and friends at me you can muster up. I'll send them all back to you in pieces and when you have no lackeys left to protect you, I will be there to swallow your soul and feed on the terror you feel when the realization of inescapable justice finally settles on your sick mind. You are already dead, Candyman. I'm just digging your grave.

Seeya on the streets,

signed: Wouldn't You Like to Know

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