Uploaded here so I can go to sleep and Faust and Jackson can see the slight revisions I've made.

Alright, I want your opinions on this. It’ll change a lot, not necessarily for the better. Just tell me what you think.

(Before Main Menu)

The kaleidoscope turns.
No longer able to run, the killer crouches upon his throne like a cornered beast.
He’s surrounded, cornered by the light of one thousand torches.
The rain grows stronger, but the fire is not extinguished.
“This will be your fate.” She had told him.
He isn’t surprised.
He had known all along that his life would end this way.

He rose on his throne, challenging all those that would invade his kingdom.
Scraps of metal and broken furniture inhabit his lonely domain.
Under the footfalls of the men, women and children the refuse is stomped into oblivion.
His body aches; he’s grown tired.
The fire burns brighter.
In unison, one thousand voices recite his crimes.
He isn’t listening. All that resounds within his empty head is the tune of a sweet violin.

The world grows silent once again.
All that can be heard is the ticking of the rain on his cold iron throne.
He stands with one foot on the right arm its right arm, in mockery of a noble hero.
His claw like left arm obscures his face, and his smile crawls between his charcoal fingers.

They close in around him.
In absolute silence, his punishment is dealt.
Cold iron tears through his warm flesh.
Without a flinch or a scream, he dies.
He stares like a child into the darkened sky, oblivious to his mangled body.
He extends his torn arm, tears dripping from his eyes.
“It seems so far away now,” his cracked, bloody lips murmur.
“Where are you…?” His throat is gored out.
“Aria…?”

(Mini-intro)
(Main Menu)

August.
Day thirteen of the worst heat wave in years.

Any visitor in his or her right mind would pronounce the city dead if they took even a ten-minute walk.
However, no sane tourist would step outside his or her hotel on a day like this.
I exhale heavily, salty perspiration runs into my mouth.
“…”
Where was I going again?
I focus, and try to remember my destination.
Sweat drips from my brow. My thoughts melt and run together, like multiple flavors of cool ice cream abandoned-
I whimper at the thought.

See game

I crush the poster with my right foot.
Strange things have been happening recently, it’s true.
I’d love to just shrug and say that it has nothing to do with me, but unfortunately this case has become a personal concern.
My eyes sink into the cool depths of the fountain.
I sigh; I took this afternoon off of work to investigate, but all I’ve done so far is space out.

"…"

I think the heat has finally broken my mind.
I grow envious of the three or four fish who inhabit the fountain.
The entire world may be burning to a crisp above the mirrored surface of the water, but below it lies a cool, dark world which the heat cannot touch.
I slap myself in an attempt to resist plunging my entire head deep into the basin.

My eyes connect with a wriggling shape beneath the surface.
Fish.
It stares back, mouth agape.
Fish.
Bubbles leak from its mouth, and its bulging eyes remain locked with my own.
Fish.
With a great exhale it floats to the surface belly up, its mouth twisted into a morbid cackle.

I jump to my feet and sprint away from the fountain, fleeing from the smell of cooked fish.
It seems my envy was misplaced.

A searing wind blows through the silent square, lifting the piled refuse and binding it to its invisible fingers.
Another wanted poster brushes by my head, and I snatch it from the air.
“Wanted!” The stencil drawing of a mustached policeman shouts. For the murder of over 30…
My eyes scan the poster quickly.
I clench my fist and ruin the poster.
I let it fall from my hand, where it lies shriveled and twisted like a crushed spider.

As if queued, a dozen more posters skitter past me.
My poster moves with them, chasing me with jittering, unstable hops.
I can read the blood red text running along its border: Dead or Alive: Ivan Siegrist.
The wind grows in strength, and it jumps far into the air.
I watch it fly gracelessly towards the blazing sun-
-and my profile, drawn in pencil, stares back at me.

(centered)
--My name is Ivan Siegrist, and, unless I can prove otherwise, I am the greatest serial killer this island has ever known.

(Queue Act I: Brush Painted Summer Intro)

An island, by nature, exists in isolation.
Time is a disjointed entity here; our society exists paradoxically as a modern civilization controlled by outdated custom.
…See game

…And the Police- civil peace keepers sanctioned to maintain order specifically in highly populated urban areas.

The Emperor’s power is absolute.
He rules the island as a being more God than man.
However, even deeper within the steel heart of tradition resides the island’s blood soaked heirloom-
The Siegrist family, my family.

Just two weeks ago, a new tradition was born.
An unsettling murder case began, disrupting an otherwise quiet summer.
Seven victims by day five.
A week ended, and unrest turned to panic.
With no leads or evidence, the police were forced to turn to their higher ups for help.
To restore order, The Emperor named an innocent man the killer.

I was accused but not captured.
The Siegrist family enjoys an unusual status among the islanders.
It’s not wealth or power that separates us from the common man, but fear.
For now, I’ll have to count on this makeshift immunity, and pursue the true killer before my time runs out.

See game