Creed: Why don’t we just go ahead and start with the fellow who so RUDELEY interrupted my speech. Shall we?

*Creed points to the killer in the crowd who spoke up earlier. He’s a man covered head-to-toe in a variety of exotic tattoos. His stern, emotionless, eyes stare at Creed as a tiny bit of a snarl can be detected in the corner of his lip. He cracks his neck, not breaking eye contact with Creed.*

Creed: This colorful character over here was born with the name “Clinton Verns” but I don’t know anyone who calls him that anymore! *chuckles*

You may know him as “The Inkwell” which the public referred to him as due to his disgusting tattoos.

*Inkwell’s snarl becomes more pronounced as Creed insults his artwork.*

Creed: Oh shut up, Da Vinci. What are you gonna do, stab me?

*Creed laughs right in Inkwell’s face. Who can only clench his fists in response*

Creed: Anyway. As you might have already guessed, Inkwell was a serial killer before he got busted. Pretty nasty one too…had a reeeeal mean streak. He was a former delinquent tattoo artist, thrill seeker….grade A scum before he even turned to offing people.

Apparently, Inkwell wasn’t satisfied with his miserable life. But really, who could blame him? He couldn’t really find a suitable outlet for any of desires in how he was conducting himself, neither artistically nor emotionally. Inky over here tried drugs, but alas it didn’t give him a big enough rush. But one day, while high on one of those beautiful “wonder drugs”, Inkwell botched one of his customers in the tattoo parlor. Once that sweet crimson blood started oozing out, our buddy over here seemed to go a bit loony over it. This was true “art” to him. And how did he finish his artwork, you ask? He killed the man of course!

And the rest is history. Inkwell went on to be a notorious killer, murdering his victims in an attempt to make his own “beautiful artwork”. And now he needs to do everything I say. Isn’t that right Inky?

*Creed smirks widely at Inkwell, who is noticeably fuming with rage.*

Creed: But enough about that walking eyesore! Let’s move on to your next playmate.

*Creed proceeded to point to another one of the killers; this one was a Native American. His skin seemed weathered like stone as his shadowed eyes glared at Creed’s finger.*

Creed: This friendly looking gentleman goes by the moniker of “The Bone Chief”. Got to say…he even spooks me out a tiny bit.

Raised on an Indian Reservation there seemed to always be something “off” about him since he was young. Eventually the chief over here ran off without explanation and pretty much disappeared from society. But boy, oh boy….did he resurface with a bang. Apparently claiming to worship some crazed deity, one the other Natives on his reservation never even heard of, the Chief went on a unrelenting rampage to satisfy it. He abducted and killed a plethora of victims for the purpose of “sacrificing” them to his master. Whether his “master” was satisfied or not, we may never know, but we do know that he eventually got caught!

And to make things better, now he works for me! So he can forget his deity, and call me his “master”. Isn’t that right Chief, aren’t I your master?

*The Bone Chief grumbles angrily to himself as Creed begins to laugh in his face. The former senator then strolls over to the next killer in line. This one was much larger than the others. His large shoulders looking large enough to be two men wide. You could see him grinding his teeth under his large, twirled handlebar mustache.*

Creed: Oh-ho-ho! This big fella over here…he’s our heavy hitter. Mr. Bismarck over here goes by quite a few names…”The Berlin Butcher”, “The German Giant”…but I think my personal favorite is “The Kaiser”.

See, I had to call out of town for The Kaiser over here….allllll the way from Germany. Funny thing is, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this big boy’s tiny brain though. He grew up in a real bad neighborhood, so as fate would have it, he got involved in quite a number of gangs in his younger days. Eventually as he grew, so did his reputation among Germany’s criminal underworld. So after some time, Bismarck over here became one of the deadliest hitmen this side of Hans Holbein’s sauerkraut!

So figuratively, Bismarck controlled the streets of Berlin through the power of fear, just like an old German “Kaiser”. A trail of dead bodies later, the authorities finally brought this elephant of a man down and sent him to promptly be “executed”. Too bad they didn’t count on the illustrious Alvar Creed to snatch him away from the jaws of death, hmm?

Now that you are my lackey, Kaiser, maybe I’ll have you shave that ridiculous looking mustache? Possibly after you shine my shoes! Hahaha!

*As Creed continues to laugh at him, the Kaiser growls and spits to the side of him.*
Creed: So you all know your job….kill Red Spyder. Plain and simple. Hopefully you can do it RIGHT this time. As always we will be in contact, and I can provide you with whatever you deem necessary to take that bastard out. Don’t let me down….

You’ll regret it….