@iiimpulse plotted starter
Town after town, city after city, Lee was often moving from one place to the next to avoid bringing any attention to himself or making suspicions arise. This one would've been the same, a casual stop on his way to the next, except he'd witnessed an event in the semi-empty streets that had caused a few people to turn their heads. None of the onlookers dared to take action or intervene in any way, and it soon became apparent why: The male who had pushed a frail old man over was tall and muscular, someone who most people would be too intimidated to pick a fight with because they knew they'd be outmatched. Except Lee didn't want to just pick a fight with him. In that moment, he decided that he wanted to kill him. It was two months ago that he last fed on someone, and this arrogant motherfucker seemed like the perfect target. As a bonus, he seemed the type to have a decent enough diet. An empty stomach was always preferred because there were no funny flavors thrown into the mix, but he'd take a healthy eater over someone who only ate deep fried food any day.
First, Lee had gone over to help the old man to his feet, grabbing his cane and hat off the ground for him and helping steady him. He was a little scuffed up and would definitely be sore because of his age and the fragility that came with it, but none of the injuries were so bad that a little ice and self-care at home wouldn't fix it. After parting ways with the old man, who had taken his hands in his own trembling ones to show his thankfulness and appreciation for his help, he spotted the attacker further down the sidewalk and began heading in the same direction.
Lee kept his distance, hanging back a good deal and trailing silently behind him to appear as someone else who was just casually going about their own business. Fingertips brushed against the hilt of his knife, which would be kept concealed until he was close enough to attack the other. Not before long, he was entering an area of the town that he deemed suitable enough to carry out his plans. Not only was it late in the day, making shadows easier to hide in and get away with attacking someone or, in this case, murdering someone, but nobody was even around to witness it in the first place. Rather than gaining on him and giving himself away, which would allow the other too much time to react, Lee went in another direction to wait around the corner of the building where he knew his target would be passing. He wouldn't say anything, he decided. He would stab him and get it over with quickly, and maybe just kick him down when he fell to his knees as a taste of his own medicine.
His hunting knife was withdrawn, fingers wrapped securely around it while he clenched his jaw and listened for the approaching footsteps. Once he was certain he was close enough, Lee stepped out from around the corner to reveal himself and, in one quick but firm motion, plunged his blade into the chest of the other male -- right where his heart would be. It was newly sharpened, the sharp steel becoming coated with a warm, slick crimson while it sliced easily through fabric and flesh. He could've pulled it free and gone in for another stab once it was embedded to the hilt, but instead he gave a violent twist of the knife, bringing forth a disgusting and wet squelching sound and creating a mangled, gory mess of torn flesh around the sharp edges.
