Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.
Our story is about to begin…

"Get back here you frog!" A heavily accented police officer cried as he ran after a man he had been pursuing for so many long years. The streets of London were dark as the storm cloud blocked out the moon, making it so that only the street lights were giving off an eerie glow. Puddles from the rain pooled over everywhere as the light that was given reflected off them. Officer Arthur Kirkland ran through one of the puddles, rippling and temporarily distorting the image and getting the legs of his pants wet as he ran after a person he had been hunting down for what seemed like decades. The blond Brit muttered a dark curse and continued to run, the silhouette of the infamous Francis Bonnefoy ahead of him in a taunting matter. Mister Bonnefoy was a wanted criminal, one Officer Kirkland had been chasing like a cat after a mouse for three long years, his record boasting the rape and murder of over thirty-two women. The man was a killer, but not the straightforward kind of killer. No, Francis was smooth and clever, not openly violent or even giving off the malicious aura of a serial killer. Francis could talk his way out of anything with his enticing accent, body language and his trustworthy voice that made it seem as if he meant everything he said. Plus, most women would fall for him and his, as Kirkland would say, "French lies".

That was until they would get back to his place. Officials assumed that after he either wooed or forced the women into his bed he'd murder them and leave them usually in a park with a view that suited their beauty.

Yet so very little was known about him that no one could guess what had driven the man off the edge of sanity.

A corner was turned by the British officer into an alley, one that was black and wet from the gently falling rain.

"Hold it right there!" The officer cried, his gun pulled out of its holster and aimed directly at the blond Frenchman.

Salvation cries, but all I can see
Is darkness following me

"Well, well, well," he snorted at the sight. "Officer Arthur Kirkland, we meet again, no?" He tossed back his long golden locks and smirked at the green-eyed officer with some emotion that Kirkland could not understand.

"Save it you frog!" Kirkland cocked the gun. "You've gotten away from me in the past but it sure as hell won't happen again!"

Francis laughed a stereotypical French laugh and his smile turned into a smirk, a dainty, sly one at that which caused Kirkland to grit his teeth in agitation.

"Blast it all!" he growled. "Whether you let me arrest you here or force me to shoot you, you're going to die, Francis Bonnefoy. You're already a dead man."

Francis laughed again. "Oui, I'm well aware of zhat fact, Arthur." He absent mindedly twirled a lock of his hair in a thoughtful way that came out as flirtatious. "And frankly, I do not care anymore, zhis game is getting boring~."

"A game?!" Kirkland exploded. "You call this sick little crime spree a game?! What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?" Kirkland was on the verge of snapping and just shooting this sick man full of many, many bullet holes and smiling as he died. To Arthur Kirkland, this case was personal.

"Oui," Francis cooed, now fully staring the Brit in the eye. "It was all just a game so everyone else would know it feels zo be all alone~" He purred the last part, smirking, obviously getting the reaction from Kirkland that he wanted. Francis knew that this rainy night in London would be his last night on Earth, but he didn't want to go down without seeing the pain of Officer Kirkland one last time, no, he flat out refused to leave without one last glimpse at it.

"Y-you-!" Kirkland's voice cracked, his face a brilliant shade of angry red, he was fuming like a bomb about to burst.

The one thing that not a single soul knew about this murderous creature was that he too once had a love, he once had a beautiful bride to come home to everyday. Someone to kiss and hold and love till death did they part. Unfortunately for Mister Bonnefoy, death came too quick to his young, lovely bride. And this, this work of poetry he left for all the husbands of all of those women was just for her and the world.

And I might be crazy just for looking at you
I must be crazy if I think that it's true

It was a message of pain, a message so that other men would know how it felt to have your beloved snatched away from you be the filthy hands of another. And to her, his late bride, it was a one way ticket to see her again; a path to being reunited with his love.

The things I've done to be with you
They echo in my every move
And I might be crazy just for looking at you

Kirkland growled, it was a very low and animal like sound, his personal feelings taking over his judgment, sweat beaded up on his brow as his hands began to shake. It wasn't fear that caused his hands to shake so visible, no it was the bitter feeling of blistering anger. And Francis saw this. To be honest, Francis would rather have his life ended now and quickly instead of going through the entire judgment system, just waiting to be executed. He wanted it quick so he could meet his belle once again. So to speed up the process, he walked a bit towards Kirkland and smiled a brilliant smile.

"Arthur~?" He asked a mischievous light in his bright eyes.

"Hm," the Brit's green orbs were at his now, the gun pointed directly at his chest.

"Your wife was delicious."  

For a minute Kirkland just stared at the smirking Frenchman before pure, blistering rage over came him and his fingers squeezed over the trigger of his handgun, sending a bullet straight into the man.

"You bastard!!!" He yelled at the man who was now lying in a puddle of rain water and his own blood, staring up at the cloudy sky, nothing but what appeared to be the smoke of Hell's fire floating above him. He let out a small smile, everything around him starting to fade as he felt his essence ebbing away into numbness; even the curses and shouts from the British man were faded away to the point that he could no longer hear Kirkland at all.

As he lost all sense and feeling on one thought was on his mind. My belle, we soon will meet again…

I must be crazy if I think that it's true

Deep below in the deepest recess of the place we call Earth, there is a place that the damned call home, a place where pain and suffering run amuck and people are driven into absolute madness, a place where once you enter, you can never leave. This is place where even the sun is cold and the singing never sounds the same. This is the place where sinners are sent to pay for their crimes against humanity; a place where the sun is silent.

----
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,
Ché la diritta via era smarrita
Esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte
Che nel pensier rinova la paura!
Io non so ben ridir com' i' v'intrai,
Tant' era pien di sonno a quel punto
Che la verace via abbandonai.
Guardai in alto e vidi le sue spalle
Vestite già de' raggi del pianeta
Che mena dritto altrui per ogne calle.
Così l'animo mio, ch'ancor fuggiva,
Si volse a retro a rimirar lo passo
Che non lasciò già mai persona viva.
----

"Lust~" A voice coos with a sinful tone to it, a beautiful, enticing voice that could easily be mistaken for the voice of an angel. The voice belonged to a young, fair looking woman with creamy, dark hair and the most hypnotizing blue eyes. A thin smirk was always plastered on her face, even when displeased and she dresses as a queen would dress in her realm. She is the queen of these evil things, the creature some might refer to as Lucifer. At the mention of her name, another woman steps forward, this one even fairer and more beautiful, a creature that would be worshipped by mortal men if they ever got the unfortunate chance to meet her, she was a demon that could posses anyone.

"Yes, my mistress?" She whispers in her voice that is clean and pure like sleigh bells, her perfect (h/c) locks flowing off her scalp, never looking the least bit off, her beautiful body in all its splendor.

"There's someone new to our little kingdom," the mistress smiles, her eyes alive with the blue fires in the hottest parts of Hell. "And you, Lust, will be the one to make sure he gets what he deserves," she cooed, spinning her trident loosely in her hands.

Can you hear them cry?
Can you hear them?
Can you hear them cry?

The (h/c)-haired woman bowed, her stunning (e/c) eyes alive with the  sin she would be carrying with her for eternity.

"Of course, my lady. Where is this man?"

Lucifer smiled a devious smile.

"In the Dark Wood of Error, his name is Francis Bonnefoy and he will fall easily for your coy guise."

Cry?