Every picture is a memory, and mine are vivid.
I took a gig at an art gallery once, the night of a spectacular exhibit by a curious artist.
Conversing with the guests, he explained the method to his madness.
This was a man who knew what he was doing.
He was meticulous in his precision, intentional in every stroke of the brush.
His mastery of the craft was matched only by his deranged subject matter.
The canvas served as a platform for his expression, and he had a lot to say.
As the night progressed, it became clear this was no mere artisan.
Every flash of the bulb shined a light on some nasty handiwork.
And then I saw it…the pièce de résistance.
A study of violence, using materials not familiar to the guests that night.
It was a Baroque showcase of brutality, painted not with oil or acrylics…but with blood.
The guests couldn’t see it…but the consistency of the material was recognizable to my eye.
With the exhibit coming to a close, I knew the real work was just getting underway.
I did my digging, researching the artist…and what I unearthed sent a chill down my spine.
This artist collected his materials in a most macabre manner.
Slaying innocent lives out in The Slums, where no one would be the wiser.
Using their lifeforce to make a living of his own.
The People’s Voice had a field day, exposing the artist’s cruelty to all who would listen in Arcadia.
What is the motive behind your art, Vulture?
Are you as cruel as that artist, taking advantage of the innocent to fulfill your own needs and desires?
Or is there something more you crave?
Perhaps the spilling of blood isn’t for painting your masterpiece, but something far more disturbing.
Either way, this little exhibition has only served to showcase your penchant for violence.
Every flash of the bulb shines a light on your handiwork, and now the real work begins.
I’ve seen your pièce de résistance…and the lives you’ve taken to build it.
I see the method to your madness, Vulture.
And I will bring it to an end.
Everyone in Olympus will watch as I uncover the truth behind your art, digging deeper until I find what I need…and then bury you in the hole left behind.
I will lay you out and put you down beside the victims you stole from this place.
The lives you claimed to build your reputation will serve to build the foundation of your demise.
No more blood will be spilt for the sake of painting your canvas.
All you will know is the heartbreak of defeat.
The sorrow of failing to take out one more innocent soul for your art.
You will dread crossing paths with Colt Ramsey.
The People’s Voice will be ringing loud and clear throughout Arcadia…and the people will listen.
Because these people want to know the truth, Vulture.
And you’ve got to give the people what they want.