November 6th, 1902,
Saint-Vincent Asylum, New York City.

The night was chilly as, one by one, a small group of young people made their way inside a large and dark asylum into the night. Hours passed between each arrivals, yet the inhabitants of the makeshift Institution of 'finer' learning were restless, as they often were in that particular month. You see, that month had always a strange tendency of bringing about new faces to Saint-Vincent Asylum. That is may be the encroaching cold or the depressing death of nature, this time of the year provoked shortness of tempers and a propensity for violent crime, to which this establishment flourished upon.

Tonight was particularly so on that front, and no less than four new recruits had arrived, all shivering and with a hunger for blood and death in their young eyes. The Hall of the Asylum was lit with darkly glowing gas lamps, and the whole room smelled of soap and wax that did not manage to hide the stench of blood and death that permeated the whole manor house. A particular door leading to the basement was even tinted with red, and faint screams could still be heard from the depths beyond it.

What attracted the most stares, however, was the tall and stately man in elegant finery that stood leaning against the imposing wooden balustrade belonging to even more impressive stairs leading up into the darkness. That man was called Lucius Mortensen, and was the proprietor, director and headmaster of Saint-Vincent Academy and Asylum.

Despite his reputable appearance, this man was a dangerous one, capable of the most inhuman acts and responsible for countless sordid crimes since he was old enough to walk. This man, in fact, was not one at all, but was in fact the son of the Devil himself, and he was sent long ago to the mortal realm to spread death and damnation upon the world.

Saint-Vincent was merely the latest of these attempts of making the world a darker place...

Jeffrey Tarson watched Lucius with cold eyes. In his hand was a knife, which he spun idly in his fingers, the blade glinting in the lamplight.

The boy was unusually tall and slender. Though he looked rather delicate, there was a surprising amount of strength hidden in his frame. The sombre grey suit he wore concealed no less than six knives, with a seventh in the loop in the back of his tie. His shiny black shoes further held another two, one in each sole. Nobody but him knew of these weapons, and he intended it to stay that way.

Looking around him, he noted that he was the only male. That was good. He didn't like other boys; they tended to be loud and stupid. Even as he watched his fellow 'students', he was evaluating their use and likely danger level, watching their every twitch and analysing it. That was what he did best: cold calculation. The value of the lives of others and how to extract the most use out of them.

Even if it was just his own enjoyment.

McKenzie Freeman pulled the dark-colored shawl tighter around her thin shoulders, her other hand rubbing the silk fabric her dress was made out of. She eyed Lucius with a blank stare. He was dressed quite nicely; she should know. She grew up in a fairly rich family, only being given the finest of clothing. Though, it hadn't mattered to her. She had wanted more. Now, she was dressed in an elegant dress, something she had stolen from her grandmother. She quite liked the look of it, all dark colors and softness.

She stood straight off to the side of the room, breathing in the smells and relishing in them. It was a mixture of smells that appealed to her, though she still didn't exactly know why. She tried to not look at the others in the room too much; after all, she didn't want to lose her calm demeanor. Not just yet, at least. Instead, she enjoyed the feel of cooled silk underneath her fingers as her others fingers held the soft shawl to her body. She felt well covered, comfortable with her hair down and over her shoulders, partly blocking her face.

Naturally, she wouldn't tell anyone but there was a hair pen hidden in her hair, beneath the golden strands; it was almost as long as her tiny hand, hidden behind her ear, and was as sharp as her mother's best kitchen knife. She had to be careful, when she slipped it into her hair. It would be so easy to hurt herself or accidentally take a chunk of hair. She does lose a few strands, because of it, but nothing noticeable. It was a well-hidden weapon and one she didn't usually go out without.

After all, she wasn't sure when she would need to use it. She wanted to use it, use it to her advantage to get something she wanted, but for now, she would be good and wait. She had some patience but it wouldn't last for long.

Silence.

Not a peep was heard from the Japanese girl, and Akemi Hirukawa looked even smaller then she actually was. Her eyes darted around restlessly, never meeting anyone's eyes before staying focused on the flower held delicately in her fingertips. Akemi nervously plunked the petals off of the flower, tossing the stem aside once all of the petals were torn off.

An uneasy feeling washed over her as she glanced around once again, taking in the people surrounding her. The people her age had a similar feel to her. Akemi could see the dark, red and black colors swirling around them all. It was the colors that surrounded Akemi as well, the aura intensifying once she had locked herself into her room. She had never seen anyone else sport the same color combination as her, and seeing multiple people do so now scared her a bit. Not just people, the entire area was reeking a dark aura. Despite her discomfort, Akemi instinctively knew that she belonged.

The moment she had arrived, she had heard soft, rasping whispers beckoning her to them, but she didn't see anything, not until she looked up to see Lucius Mortenson, that is. Her eyes widened a fraction to see a vivid image of the Devil lurking behind him. The whispering she heard ceased when she took in Lucius and the hallucination that appeared behind him.

The corner of Akemi's lip twisted upwards into a soft smile.

Moe stood on the street, staring up at the doors she had watched several others enter. She had been dropped off earlier by her brothers, but she didn't want to enter inside yet. The place didn't seem right, but somehow seemed perfectly normal and even welcoming. "Just get in there, idiot." Moe cringed as her thoughts lashed at her, but she obeyed, climbing the few steps and pushing open the door, peering inside. there were already people in the front hall, mostly her age. Her eyes wandered to the man at the front of the group, and she inwardly shuttered. "Would you look at him? its like he's climbed out of some distant hell-hole." "Probably has." "Come on, guys. stop it. I'm sure he's nice." Moe shut the door and quickly moved to the corner, her eyes continuing to dart around the room, her thoughts making their own comments.

"Nice vibe to the place. very dark." "Its too closed off and dismal, not enough light." "Well, the sun's not helping any." "you guys are pathetic." "Am I the only one who thinks we should just off all these people?" "We can't, not yet. we'd defiantly get caught." "We'll do it one at a time, watch as the rest fear for their lives. wonder who's next."

letting out a small breath, Moe mentally shook her head, the voices dissipating. she knew they'd be back later, but for now she wanted silence. No one else was talking, and so she relished in the quiet, knowing she may not have the chance again for a long while.

Looking at his future 'students' with smoldering eyes, a small mysterious smile upon his thin lips, Lucius straightened his tall frame and slowly descended the creaking stairs. Each step was controlled, each movement delicately orchestrated as he presented the image of a strict yet fair man, one of his favorite mask, as he finally reached the greeting hall proper.

Those children would do, they had a good look in their eyes, one craving death, blood and suffering. Just what he sought in his little prophets... just what he needed for his true ascension upon the throne of the world...

Gesturing subtly to the stairs with a perfectly groomed head, the man's long fingered left hand caressed the stone balustrade leading back up before he fixated ever one of his new charges darkly.

"Welcome to Saint-Vincent, where a life of grandeur awaits you." After his lack of introduction, he ascended the stairs, fully expecting the young teens to follow in his footsteps up the aged wood steps.

McKenzie's eyes snapped up from the floor when she realized the man was coming down the stairs. She watched him closely, wondering what he was thinking, what type of person he was. Honestly, she didn't care, she thought after a moment of taking his appearance in properly. There wasn't anything that caught her interest about the man, nothing she wanted- well, perhaps the calmness he seemed to have, the control of himself, she wouldn't mind having that. It was one reason she was here, to better learn to control her anger and not lash out as much as she usually does.

She could tell this man knew a few things, though, and she wasn't an idiot. She knew when to pick and choose her battles. She straightened herself just slightly when his eyes ran over her, pulling her shawl even tighter about her shoulders. She wasn't a weak person and she didn't want to be viewed as such. But something about this man gave her chills, made her want to look away and leave, but she didn't. It was a pointless feeling, one that didn't make much sense to her.

She titled her head a bit when he began walking up the stairs again, after speaking. Were they to follow? Well, obviously. Glancing about her but not looking too hard, she decided to be one of the firsts stepping forward and following. She didn't want to look scared. Because she wasn't. So, with her chin up and shoulders straight, she began to follow the intriguing man up the stairs. She wasn't one for asking questions or for just being rude. She had manners and she knew how to use them so quietly, she followed.

"Welcome to Saint-Vincent, where a life of grandeur awaits you." The image of the devil grinned maliciously at those words.

Akemi could tell that this mysterious man radiated power. There was something different about him, in not just his aura, but the very way he held himself. Every movement was precise and meaningful, seeming that he left nothing to chance. She picked at the hem of her clothing, biting her lip nervously. Cold, calculating, precise. Those were the ones who were the most dangerous. And in such a foreboding place, with all of it's images and whispers, would it be wise to follow him? To place her trust in a complete stranger with the devil hovering over him...

Of course it wasn't. And that was the reason why Akemi would follow him.

Her eyes lifted to see a girl waltz up the stairs confidently, and Akemi hesitated for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she followed in a more insecure fashion, with her shoulders hunched in and her head down. Despite the posture, Akemi ascended the stairs with grace, taking careful care to not step on the blood stains that she saw with her special sight.

She would look weak, shy. And that was exactly the way she wanted.

"What a drama queen." Moe shook her head, shuffling her feet as she gripped her head, despretly tying to get rid of the voices. They weren't helpful in any way, shape or form.
"We should kill him." "He seems like he'd be a hard victim." "Exactly! A worthy opponent!" "I like him. He'll be a help alive." "I think you're being influenced by our girl here. We all know how she just falls for every male she sees."
"Shut up, you wankers." Moe let it slip before she could help herself, tensing up as she realised others could hear her. Her face burning, she moved quickly and clumsily up after the other two girls, making herself seem even smaller than she was.
"You won't get much quiet anymore, girl." "We're going to have such fun with how easy it'll be to break you!" Moe cringed as she stumbled for a spilt second before catching herself, carrying on as if nothing had happened. They were right, though. With the new enviroment, it would be harder to keep them at bay. For them, makin her hurt someone would be as easy as taking sweets from a child.