Kate Graves

Kate spent her morning like she did every morning; cleaning her small arsenal of guns which included: 2 twin pistols with pearl handles, her sniper, and rifle. While she mostly used her pistols and sniper, she still kept the rifle she used for her first kill. Her first kill being her alcoholic, abusive father that used both her and her mother as outlets of anger and stress when he came home in a drunken rage. One night, when she was only 9 years old, her mother couldn't take the abuse anymore and after tucking Kate in, her mom used the rifle that was hidden in the house to kill herself, hearing the gunshot, Kate ran into her parents’ room to see her dead mother lying on the wood floor, blood everywhere and rifle hanging limply from her cold hand. After crying over her mother’s body she took the rifle and waited by the door. When her father came home that night, she pulled the trigger while looking straight into his eyes, not blinking as she fired. That was the first time she had ever fired a gun, and certainly wasn't the last as over the next 10 years she had lost count of the number of lives under her belt. Now she was 19, had dyed black streaks into her naturally red hair, and was sitting in her usual crappy motel room that she would stay in as she traveled the country obeying only her bloodlust. She drove a classic 1965 Ford Mustang that she stole as soon as she was 16 and could pass at being a driver to cops. Before then she just hitchhiked or took busses.

The ice-blue-eyed killer stuck to her pistols and occasionally her sniper for her kills, but also occasionally loved to torture her victims if she had the time. She scouted out for people that were assholes, who where rats in a society that wouldn't miss them. Her choice of victims gave her an advantage as they practically always had many enemies and people that hated them. Meaning that police and the FBI had dozens to hundreds of suspects surfacing with every kill she made, keeping them far enough away from her tail. While she kept continuities slim, she always left her signature shot straight through the right eye. The killing shot leading the press and authorities to dub the serial killer nicknames of "Deadeye", "The Blind Shot", "The Executioner", "The Cross-Country Killer", and a couple others.

After she was done cleaning her guns, she placed them in her grey duffle bag before she left the room to go take a shower, the water was barely warm and had horrible water pressure but she still got herself clean before turning the shower off and getting dry so she could change into a black tank top, a pair of torn dark blue jeans, her combat boots and pull on her long gloves that ended ⅔ up her bicep. The gloves hid the rows upon rows of horizontal raised, white scars covering of her forearms and wrists. Some had faded over the years, but there were still too many to try to count.

Sliding on her dark rectangular sunglasses, she took her duffle full of guns and a change of clothes out to her car where she placed the guns in the false bottom of the trunk and the duffle left with clothes on top of the cover of the secret compartment. Closing the trunk and climbing in the driver’s seat, she turn the key, bringing the car to life as well as music to blast from the speakers. She mostly listened to classic rock, so the song blaring was “Back in Black” by AC/DC. Smiling as she pulled out of the parking spot, she started singing along with the song as she pulled out of the motel’s parking lot onto the empty morning road close to the highway, merging onto the road as she drove to find the next town where she would find her next victims.

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