[center][b]23rd Ward
11:41am[/b][/center]

Keisuke had dozed off in front of the TV after watching the news report. He'd been up for about thirty hours before. Adrenaline kept him awake. The rush of being a wanted convict. The feel of the Commission of Counter Ghoul breathing down his neck. Keisuke felt like they were watching his every move. They'd really bumped up their presence in Ward 23 alone since the breakout, and, no doubt, more were probably going to be on their way after his show the day before, among many others that had taken place not long after the mass exodus of the detention center. Doves weren't his favourite thing. Nor were they any other ghouls. The ones that wanted to stay alive and free, anyway.

His mask was tossed aside, but remained on the sofa. It still had specks of blood from his prey. He'd have to wash that off before he used it again. The clothes he'd worn during the attack lay in a crumpled heap in the corner of the room. Those would have to be washed, too. Blood was not easy to get out of clothing. Keisuke scolded himself for not being more careful in the way he carried out the attack, but realised he was still rusty after spending much of his adult life imprisoned, not able to practice his techniques. He needed to relearn the ways his father had taught him to attract humans to a particular spot and strike.

The curtains in his room were pulled. The only thing that illuminated the room was the TV. It was showing some kind of game show. Nothing that Keisuke was interested in. He wanted to see his name on TV. He was a sucker for attention. He wanted to be notorious. He wanted to be the most famous ghoul of them all. Known as the most vicious, most violent, most bloodthirsty. But, for now, that title went to his boss, the one he only knew as Scarecrow. The leader of the organisation that he had joined after being broken out of the Ghoul Detention Center. He owed his freedom to them, and intended to pay them back in the only way he knew how.