It was night in the Sykes district, but the area was still bustling with activity. The smell of food stalls and perfume from the many scantily clad women gave the air a unique scent. The district was well known for its women, food, and the numerous gangs that ran it. But recently, it had been known for something else.
In one of the many streets of this district sat Rick, an unassuming gangster who thought he could strike it big. Needless to say, it hadn't turned out as he'd hoped.
Rick sat on a bench with a lit cigarette between his fingers. He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. He leaned his head back and exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the air. Rick looked toward the sky, reminiscing about his past and how he had ended up here.
Rick had been left at the door of a fire station as a baby, something he thought was very cliché. He never wondered much about who his parents were or why they left him; he simply didn't care.
He had been deemed a problem child at the age of ten, when he was returned by a couple who had adopted him. Rick had been giving them trouble for a while, but they blamed it on a child's hyperactivity—until he drowned their dog. That was the last straw.
Since then, Rick had drifted in and out of homes, and after he turned fifteen, no one came to adopt him anymore—most likely due to his bad record and the preference for younger children. When he turned eighteen, he received a small stipend and was sent out of foster care.
Rick quickly burned through the stipend and found himself homeless. Foster care refused to give him any further support, so he turned to crime. For a year, he wandered around and wound up in jail a few times. Eventually, he found himself in Sykes and joined the Bowsers, one of the many gangs there.
Rick had thought that joining a gang would net him tons of money and women. He had seen plenty of movies about gangs and how they made millions. What he didn't expect was to end up as an errand boy for the first few years. He hadn't even met the gang's boss once. He only received scraps from his superiors, allowing him to barely make a living. At least he had somewhere to sleep—a simple one-bedroom apartment with a shared bath and toilet. The place was a gang-owned complex, so it reeked of alcohol and piss.
Since then, he'd done worse things—he'd killed, plundered, maimed, and more. But he didn't care; it was survival of the fittest here. This was the reality of the gangs of Sykes, or as some liked to call it, the Devil's Playground.
Rick had recently been promoted to a tax collector, collecting protection money from the businesses that operated in his gang's area. He made sure never to skim off the top—he'd seen what happened to those who did. He would still get his cut, and it was best not to be greedy.
He saved some money, got a better place, ate better food, and could now say he was living decently.
"Shit, why am I thinking of the past now?" Rick sighed. 'Probably because today's my birthday,' he thought.
Today was the anniversary of when he was found at the fire station. Rick always considered it his birthday.
'A fire station, really? Whoever left me there had no imagination.'
It had been nine years since he joined the Bowser gang, and he was turning twenty-eight. Nothing special had happened today; it was just like any other.
Rick raised his hand to take another puff, but he noticed his cigarette was down to the filter.
'Guess it's time to go home.' He tossed the cigarette butt and got up to leave.
On his way, Rick saw TVs on display at a store, each showing a movie or show.
'I should probably get a TV soon,' he thought.
He glanced at one of the screens playing the news, then quickly looked back when he noticed a familiar face.
"Robby?" Rick muttered, recognizing one of his fellow gang members. Then he read the news caption, and his eyes widened in shock.
[BREAKING NEWS: SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN, YOUNG MAN'S BODY FOUND WITH GENITALS MISSING IN SOUTHERN SYKES DISTRICT]
A picture of Robby's face appeared in the corner as the victim. Rick knew Robby from when he stayed at his old apartment; they hadn't talked much and were both errand boys.
What shocked Rick the most wasn't Robby's death but what it implied.
'Fuck, if Robby's dead, that means this killer's in Bowser territory.' Rick looked around frantically with a suspicious look, causing passersby to avoid him.
This serial killer wasn't something new; in fact, most gangs in Sykes knew about it. The first victim had been found three months ago—a gang member in Northern Sykes. At first, people dismissed it as another gang-related incident, but it kept happening. The killer seemed to move around, never staying in one area for too long.
The victims were always male and usually hoodlums or gang members. The public didn't care, and even the police were passive in their investigations, considering the killer's actions as a twisted form of vigilante justice, despite their unsavory nature. But for the gang members, the serial killer was a terrifying threat. The killer had many nicknames: Sausage Thief, Dick Destroyer, Phallus Philanderer, to name a few.
Rick left the TV storefront and quickened his pace toward home, scanning the people he passed to make sure no one would make a move on him. Someone bumped into him, and he instinctively reached for the gun in his pants. He turned to see a man in a suit, who looked at him with a scared expression after noticing Rick's movements.
Rick scowled at the man. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," the man quickly apologized.
Rick seemed to calm down and removed his hand from his pants. "Scram!" He snarled, and the man hurried away.
'Jeez, what am I doing? Bowser territory is pretty big. The odds of meeting that dick thief are slim, and I've got a gun. No need to be so on edge,' Rick thought as he calmed down, but he didn't let down his guard.
He soon reached his neighborhood, a quiet place with few people. Sykes wasn't known for its hospitality, so not many people wanted to live there. Thankfully, this kept rents low.
'Guess I was just panicking for nothing,' He thought as he neared his home.
As he turned a corner, he saw a girl in uniform and glasses. She had an ample bosom that seemed too large for her uniform. She wore her bag on both shoulders and walked quickly with a meek look on her face.
Rick felt his body heat up as his face morphed into a sinister expression. He chuckled. 'Just as I was wondering what to do for my birthday.' He started to follow her from a distance.
As Rick followed her, she went deeper into the dark neighborhood.
'This just makes it easier for me,' he thought as she turned into a tight alley. 'Nice, I'd better make my move.' He quickened his footsteps and approached her from behind. She suddenly stopped walking.
"Hmm, why'd she stop?" he wondered, thinking she had noticed him. Rick smiled and came up behind her. "Hey missy, it's a dangerous time to be outside, don't you think?" She didn't respond and kept her back to him.
"Hehe, a silent one, eh? Would you turn around for me?" Rick asked as he felt his blood heat up further. The girl turned around slowly, allowing Rick to get a good look at her. She was stunning, but what confused Rick was the wide, obsessed smile on her face.
"Huh, you're not crazy, are you?" Rick asked through a forced grin. She didn't answer. "Hmmph, let's see you make that face after I'm done with you" he said as he came closer.
Rick reached toward her skirt, then he felt it before he saw it—a sharp pain in his neck. He looked down to see her thumb pressing an unknown liquid into him through a syringe in his neck.
Rick pushed her away quickly and reached for his gun, but as soon as he touched it, his whole world started spinning. His legs went limp, and he fell to the ground. He couldn't move his hands. Rick struggled to move his body, but his attempts were futile.
Rick's eyes darted about as he panicked, not knowing how to get out of this situation. His eyes landed on the girl, who at some point had taken off her bag and was rummaging through it.
"Now where did I put it?" she asked out loud as she continued searching.
"Wat da... what'd you choo to mwe?" Rick slurred, struggling even to move his mouth. He stared at the girl, who now had a bright smile on her face, as if she'd been asked out by her crush.
"Ah, found it!" she said as she pulled out a small purse from the bag. She opened it, and when Rick saw the inside, his pupils shrank to the size of pins. Inside were multiple scalpels and small knives. His heart pounded in his chest.
When she started to pull off his trousers, a sudden thought struck him. "Are... are you da Chick Chistwoyer?" he asked.
Surprisingly, the girl answered.
"I kinda like that one, sounds cool."
As soon as she said that, Rick's blood ran cold. He suddenly wished he'd never asked. She finished taking off his trousers and positioned a scalpel near his genitals. He felt the cold steel against his skin.
He wanted to run away, to hide. His body began to fidget as tears poured from his eyes. He didn't want to die.
Rick expected to feel pain, but it didn't come. He looked down and saw the girl staring right back at him, smiling.
Rick felt profound fear from the depths of his soul. He thought that the girl in front of him wasn't human but a devil. And he understood why Sykes was called the Devil's Playground.
As if satisfied by Rick's expression, the girl's smile grew wider.
"You gang members never seem to think, or if you do, it's with this stuff right here." She tapped her scalpel, causing Rick to twitch and tear up more.
"A defenseless schoolgirl with glasses is all it takes for you all to get heated and stop using your brains," the girl chuckled.
Rick continued crying. "Pleeasshh," he begged.
The girl looked at him, confused, then suddenly enlightened. "Oh, you want to know why I'm doing this? Well, it's simply because..." She leaned forward, letting her mouth meet his ear.
Scared, Rick lost control of his bladder, and she whispered into his ear, "I love it."
She leaned back and adjusted her scalpel. "The roleplay, the hunter becomes the hunted—I love it all. I don't discriminate between men, but with gangsters, it's easier to get away with. Not to mention, you all are more daring." She smiled madly as Rick's fear refused to stop rising.
"Aww, look at the mess you've made," she said, her scalpel pointing down at his urine-covered crotch. "Don't worry, I'll clean it up for you."
Before Rick could react, her scalpel had already moved, slicing into flesh.
"MMMBRRFGHHH!" Rick couldn't fathom such pain existed. He couldn't run; he couldn't move. She didn't cut all the way through and seemed to be enjoying Rick's slurred screams of pain.
Slowly, she continued. Rick's suffering had only just begun.
Minutes later—but what felt like years to Rick—he looked through tear-filled eyes at his bloodied body. He could feel his life slipping away from the loss of blood. He heard cheerful whistling and knew it was the devil who did this to him.
He stared at the devil, who seemed to be cleaning up its tools. His last thoughts were of the puppy he had drowned as a kid. Was he a devil to the dog too?
---
"Ah, all done" Genam whistled as she closed the cooler she was handling and packed up the rest of her stuff. "That was so much fun. I wonder if I should stay here a bit longer" Genam pondered aloud.
"What do you think, stranger?" she asked as she looked down at the bloodied corpse. "You're right, I should head home. Don't wanna miss dinner" she said, shaking the cooler in her hands.
Genam skipped out of the alley, whistling a cheerful tune. As she left the area, she noticed someone following her in the distance. "I guess one more couldn't hurt."