LUKAS KROLL

Under a gloomy Berlin sky in the Occid Kingdom, two teenagers sauntered along a desolate street. Their voices exchanged in casual conversation, as the ragged nimbus clouds above threatened rain.

"See how I beat Crime Lyfe III yesterday?" Boy #1 boasted.

"You didn't 'beat' anything, mate. You used cheat codes," countered Boy #2 with a hint of annoyance.

"So? I still beat the game," Boy #1 retorted, his tone defiant.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the street, three young men dressed in tracksuits lounged carelessly. Amidst their laughter and the act of rolling up weed joints, one of them noticed the two schoolboys and motioned to his companions.

Tensions escalated when one of the young men accidentally collided with Boy #1, causing the boy to drop his phone. The device shattered upon impact.

"Oh, s-sorry, sir. I didn't see you," Boy #1 stammered, trying to apologize.

"Yo, look what you fucking did!" Young Man #1 exclaimed, picking up his cracked phone.

"I'm so sorry," Boy #1 repeated, genuinely remorseful. "You broke his phone, kid. That's a bit messed up, don't you think?" Young Man #2 remarked, clearly upset.

"I-I know, I'm sorry," Boy #2 chimed in. "I swear I didn't do it on purpose."

Meanwhile, Lukas Kroll, a disheveled man of twenty-nine with messy hair and an open-collared red shirt half-tucked into his trousers, wandered aimlessly down the street.

He adjusted his medically prescribed glasses while scratching his neck, his attention drawn to the unfolding confrontation between the young men and the schoolboys.

Lukas couldn't help but ponder what lay ahead in this peculiar encounter.

Young Man #3 chimed in, taking the opportunity to add to the mounting tension. "You know you owe him a new phone, right?"

Young Man #1, seemingly agitated by the situation, responded sharply, "As a matter of fact...you owe us a lot more than a new phone..."

Young Man #2 couldn't resist making a comment as well, albeit a more peculiar one, "Yeah, your shoes are looking kinda nice, I can't lie..."

The young men's gaze shifted towards the bag carried by Boy #2, their curiosity piqued. "And I wonder what I could find in that bag of yours..." Young Man #3 mused.

Boy #2, now alarmed, stammered, "Wh-what?"

Boy #1, trying to defuse the situation, stepped in, "Don't listen to them...we don't owe them shit. They bumped into us. Let's go."

He grabbed Boy #2's hand, attempting to lead him past the young men who had blocked their path. However, the young men remained obstinate, refusing to yield.

Young Man #1 barked, "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Boy #1, his patience wearing thin, retorted defiantly, "Hey, piss off!"

Without warning, Young Man #1 launched a sudden punch at Boy #1's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Hey!" Boy #2 protested, coming to his friend's aid.

But Young Man #2 and Young Man #3 joined the fray, overwhelming the schoolboys. They pummeled the boys relentlessly, their assault growing increasingly brutal as they forcibly removed their shoes, bags, and other belongings.

Young Man #2 held up one of the stolen shoes, examining it with a calculating eye. "Yo, how much do you think I could sell these for?"

Young Man #3 pondered for a moment before answering, "Prolly like 40."

As the trio discussed their ill-gotten gains, a sudden and shocking turn of events silenced the street. Young Man #1's eyes widened in agony as a knife impaled his back, piercing through to his stomach. Blood began to trickle from the blade, staining the ground crimson.

The two remaining young men stared in disbelief at the horrifying spectacle, unable to comprehend what had just transpired.

Young Man #1's pain-filled groans filled the air as he clutched the knife embedded in his back, his life rapidly draining away. His companions were frozen in shock, their faces drained of color, as they watched the gruesome scene unfold.

Lukas Kroll, the shabby man with dishevelled hair and a devious grin, stood over Young Man #1, relishing the horror in their eyes. He nonchalantly removed the knife from the young man's back, causing him to collapse to his knees and then faceplant onto the pavement.

The remaining two young men were paralyzed with fear, unable to comprehend the sudden and brutal attack. Young Man #2, trembling with a mixture of terror and anger, managed to stammer, "Wh-wh-what the fuck! I'll fucking kill you!"

In a fit of rage, Young Man #2 charged at Lukas, fists clenched and ready for a fight. Lukas, however, appeared almost amused as he grinned and goaded his assailant. "Yes...yes, come...come to me."

As Young Man #2 swung a wild punch at Lukas, the shabby man displayed astonishing agility. He effortlessly evaded the strike, slipping under Young Man #2's arm and swiftly launching a flurry of knife strikes. The blade danced through the air, landing with pinpoint precision on various parts of Young Man #2's body.

Lukas's strikes were executed with astonishing speed and skill, each blow designed to incapacitate. He finally delivered a devastating stab through Young Man #2's chest, driving him to the ground with a gasp of pain.

The third young man, Young Man #3, and the two schoolboys watched in sheer horror as Lukas continued his merciless assault. The sadistic grin never left his face as he repeatedly stabbed Young Man #2's chest, the sickening sound of flesh meeting steel filling the air.

Finally, Lukas ceased his relentless assault, leaving Young Man #2 lifeless on the pavement. He turned his chilling gaze toward Young Man #3, who stood trembling in the face of this nightmarish encounter.

"Sh-shit!" Young Man #3 stammered, his voice trembling with fear as he took a step back, desperate to escape the impending danger.

But Lukas had no intention of allowing him to flee so easily. With a wicked grin, he declared, "Not so fast..."

In a swift and deadly motion, Lukas flung his knife at Young Man #3. The blade struck its mark, impaling the back of Young Man #3's head. He collapsed to the ground, his life extinguished in an instant.

The two schoolboys, still in shock and horror, were left to bear witness to the gruesome aftermath. 

Lukas, seemingly unaffected by the carnage he had wrought, turned his attention to the surviving boys with a malevolent grin. "Isn't it sad...I've reached a stage where I don't need a reason..."

He continued to leer at the boys, his disturbing fascination with violence evident in his gaze. "I'm sorry, kids...but my urges still haven't been satisfied."

With horrifying swiftness, Lukas lunged towards Boy #1, his knife flashing in the daylight. In an instant, the blade cut through the air and slashed across Boy #1's throat, a fountain of crimson spraying from the gruesome wound. Boy #1's eyes widened in sheer terror as he clutched at his own neck, desperately attempting to stem the torrent of blood.

Boy #2 stood frozen, his voice stolen by the nightmarish scene before him. All he could do was watch in horror as Boy #1 collapsed to his knees, the gasps for air growing weaker with each passing moment.

As Boy #1's life slipped away, Lukas, his sadistic satisfaction evident, taunted Boy #2 with cruel words. "Don't worry, kid...you two will meet again...wherever God decides."

Before Boy #2 could comprehend the chilling implications of Lukas's words, the shabby man was already upon him, his knife poised for another deadly strike. Boy #2 let out a deafening cry, a primal scream of terror and despair as he braced for the inevitable.

Meanwhile, concealed in the shadows and maintaining a cautious distance from the horrifying tableau, The Herd's butler, Carrington, remained a silent and enigmatic observer. His presence was shrouded in mystery, and his motives remained hidden as he bore witness to the unfolding tragedy.