… I’m not even sure where to begin.
I’m Criminal Psychologist in training, future Detective Constable Leonie Barrow, at your service. Mine is a rather long, drawn out and somewhat sad tale. A tale of horror and humor. Of carnage and carnivals. A tale… That is starting to sound a bit melodramatic. Sorry.
I am talking, of course, of the tale of Johannes Cabal. Johannes Cabal (a necromancer of little infamy) waltzed into my life riding a train and running a carnival. A dark carnival. A carnival that changed my views on carnivals and festivities of a similar sort forever.
I shall never forgive him for ruining cotton candy and kettle corn for me.
But more importantly, I shall never forget his stack of contracts. The sort of contract you should only ever sign if you’re criminally stupid, not a believer in the afterlife or just can’t read contracts properly.
…Yes. I signed one. And before you ask, yes, it was criminally stupid of me. Don’t worry though - what I signed over never got collected.
I think we all would have been quite pleased if that had been the end of it, but of course it wasn’t (isn’t that always the case?)
There I was, minding my own business, studying abroad and BAM! He blows up an airship.
Alright, it’s possible that I’m simplifying things a bit; he did, after all, only blow it up in a strange sort of attempt to save everyone on board so… that’s one karma point to him, I suppose. The point is, we have a history. A mostly bad history and now… Now I don’t know. It seems terribly ungrateful to have him arrested and it should be noted that while he considers murder a ‘waste’, he kills without hesitation. Yet here I am.
Ah well. I suppose one day… One day we’ll sort things out.