He went through his checklist as he always did before going hunting.
Though many men enjoyed the thrill of a good game, hunting down deers, ducks, or even going fishing, he had far more unique tastes.
He liked the way people gasped and stared in horror before taking their last breath, especially if those people were women... pretty women.
His rituals were peculiar; they always had been.
Wearing black clothes while out hunting, making sure he shaved his hair off regularly to avoid leaving strands behind, yet never forgetting to wear a wig while in public.
Keeping his nails trimmed was also important. One could never be too careful when making sure no evidence was left behind.
That was why the clothes he wore kept any victim from potentially scratching his bear skin. No DNA left behind.
He ran daily to keep himself fit, and when indulging in a special meal, it always would include one of those delicious meat cuts he kept in his freeze.
Cuts one couldn't just buy in a butcher shop
Rituals were important. They were what kept him from getting caught. After all, he seized his first victim when he was in his 20s, and now he was a week shy of his 50th birthday.
His black, nondescript bag carried the essentials: Tape, rope, knife. All store-bought, the same kind millions across America used every day.
The smirk on his face as he walked out his front door was anything but ordinary.
There was a darkness lurking behind it: The smile of a predator. A smile he only wore while alone...
or when standing face to face with his brand new victim.
It was killing time. All he was missing now was a pretty woman, and as he took a soothing night stroll through the park, he found one that perfectly fitted his requirements.