Deranged Like Me

Harlem
Who’s crazy enough to taunt the devil in his lair? Me, of course. The Jester was his namesake, a fool. He was impulsive, reckless, and lacked finesse. If I’m going to share the headlines, then I need better company. I think he needs a lesson or two in the art of killing. So, how do I coax the devil to come out and play? I make sure that the dead can talk. They say dead men tell no tales, but they do. If you know what you’re looking for. A little premonition doesn’t hurt either.
He thinks he’s stalking me, but he’s my prey. Real monsters don’t chase; they lie back and wait.

Draven
While I like to live dangerously and mark my kills, I never expected anything to be traced back to me. So, when the cops came sniffing around, I was intent on finding out how they found me. All the evidence points back to her. A tiny little thing with a wicked smile and something sinister lurking in those big, chocolate eyes. Somehow, she has figured out the man behind the mask, or she thinks she has. I was captivated. We all were. She might be just as crazy as us, and I fucking love it.