Ren got off work early today, too excited about creating a new persona, and went straight home. He is sitting in his dimly lit room, staring at the blank wall in front of him, his mind racing with ideas. The outline of Incubi is already clear in his head, but now comes the most critical step—bringing the character to life. He's done the thinking, and now he has to make it real. His eyes drift toward the clock on the wall. It's late in the afternoon, but he still has time.
He leans back on the bed, rubbing his chin. The mask, the coat, the dark clothing—all of it needs to be right. But the most important thing is that no one can know. He can't afford to go to an outfit shop or some tailor who might later remember him. It all has to be done by his own hand.
His thoughts wander to the materials. He'll need something solid, something that won't stand out but will still give off the air of mystery he wants Incubi to have. The mask, in particular, has to be perfect—something simple, black, with a sinister smile painted across it.
He stands, pacing across the small room. "Okay... first things first," he mutters to himself. "I need to find a place to buy the materials. Somewhere that won't make me look suspicious."
He sits on the chair and opens his laptop, typing quickly into the search engine. 'Mask shops near me.' Results pop up on the screen one by one, but most of them are mainstream costume shops, the kind anyone might visit for a party or Halloween. But that won't work. He needs something... niche, something under the radar.
After scrolling for a few minutes, he finds a small, old shop that sells masks and fabrics. It's tucked away in an older part of the city, the kind of place no one really talks about. Perfect. No one will suspect anything if he buys from there.
Ren clicks through the shop's page, scanning to afford, but still, this will cost him more than he'd like. His savings are already tight. He lets out a sigh, but his determination doesn't waver. He can't cut corners here. Incubi has to be perfect.
Ren closes his laptop, exits his room, hops on his bike, and leaves for the shop. By the time he arrives at the shop, the sun has almost sunk. The streets in this part of town are quiet, almost abandoned. The shop itself looks like something from another time. The paint on the sign is chipped, and the windows are dusty. He stands outside for a moment, taking it all in, then steps inside, the bell above the door jingling softly.
The interior of the shop is cramped, filled with shelves of masks, fabrics, and strange odds and ends. It smells faintly of old leather and dust. Ren glances around, his eyes drawn immediately to a shelf near the back, where rows of simple, black masks are displayed.
"wow," he whispers under his breath, moving toward the shelf.
The masks are plain, all the same, featureless, and black. Ren picks one up, turning it over in his hands. It's light, made of some kind of plastic, but sturdy enough. It's exactly what he needs. His mind flashes with an image of the mask, painted with a wide, red smile. He imagines it grinning in the dark, a twisted reflection of the cheerfulness Incubi will project.
Satisfied, he heads toward the counter with the mask. Next, he moves to the fabric section, searching for the right material to make the coat. He runs his hands over the various fabrics, feeling the textures. Eventually, he finds a thick, black leather. It's heavy but flexible enough to sew into a coat that will billow behind him as he walks.
He pulls the roll of fabric over his shoulder and takes it to the counter. The shopkeeper, an elderly man with thick glasses, barely looks up as Ren sets the items down.
"That'll be..." The shopkeeper mumbles the price, and Ren's stomach twists when he hears it. It's about half of what he has saved up. He hesitates for a moment, staring at the bills in his wallet.
"This is gonna hurt," he mutters under his breath, but hands over the money without another word. As the shopkeeper bags the items, Ren feels the weight of what he's just spent. He won't have much left after this.
Ren leaves the shop and heads home. But on his way, he makes one more stop at a cheap clothing store. He picks out plain black pants and a shirt—nothing special, but they'll serve their purpose. He doesn't need anything flashy for this part of the costume. What matters is the mask and coat. The rest just needs to blend in.
The simple clothes cost him a little more, further draining his savings, but he doesn't dwell on it. He's too focused on the end goal. By the time he arrives back at his apartment, the sky has grown dark. His small room feels even smaller now, the bag of materials sitting heavily on his desk.
Ren takes a deep breath and lays the items out on the bed. The mask, the fabric, the black clothes. He runs his fingers over the surface of the mask, feeling its smooth texture.
This is it. He's about to give Incubi a physical form.
He grabs a paintbrush from the drawer and a small jar of red paint he'd picked up earlier. His hands are steady as he dips the brush into the paint and begins to work. Slowly, carefully, he paints a wide, curved smile onto the mask. It's a cheerful, almost comical grin—but there's something off about it. Something twisted.
Ren smirks as he works, imagining Incubi standing in a dark alley, waiting for his prey. "Ohh, don't be afraid, miss. I'm no villain... I just need payment," Ren whispers, practicing Incubi's voice. It's cheerful and lighthearted but laced with something sinister.
He finishes the smile and sets the mask aside to dry, turning his attention to the leather coat. He spreads the fabric out on the floor, cutting it carefully with a pair of old scissors. The material is thick and tough, and his hands start to cramp as he works. But he doesn't stop. Each stitch, each cut brings him closer to Incubi.
As he sews the pieces together by hand, his mind drifts to how Incubi will move, how he'll talk. "Hey, miss... You shouldn't be out this late. You might run into the big, bad wolf," Ren mutters to himself, chuckling softly. The coat will flow behind him as he walks, the mask hiding his face, his voice cheerful and unnerving.
The hours tick by, the moon rising higher in the sky, but Ren doesn't stop. His fingers are sore, his back aches from hunching over the fabric, but he keeps working. He's creating something more than just an outfit. He's breathing life into a new persona.
By the time the sun begins to rise, Ren is finished. He stands up, stretching his stiff muscles, and looks down at the completed costume. The mask, with its twisted, cheerful grin, the long black coat, the simple, dark clothes underneath. It's all there. Everything is in place.
For a moment, he stands there, staring at the outfit on the bed. Then, He slips into the outfit, pulling the coat over his shoulders and fastening the mask over his face. He walks over to the mirror and stares at his reflection. But The figure looking back at him isn't Ren anymore. It's someone else. Something else.
It's Incubi, the one who he imagined, who he created piece by piece.
For a moment, Ren feels a thrill run through him, a rush of power. He steps closer to the mirror, tilting his head as he admires the mask. "I didn't just make an outfit," he whispers to himself, his voice muffled slightly by the mask. "I brought him to life."
Ren stares at the mirror for some time, and then, takes off the mask and sets it down gently on the table, his heart still racing.
Incubi is ready, and his first target will be Nathan. What Incubi will do with him will be something Nathan will never be able to forget, not in this life.