Description

Robert “Rem” Milligan channels every waking moment into ritualistic devotion to a demon he believes grants him power. He surrounds himself with symbols carved into walls, floors, and even his own skin. He treats every omen as a command. He views human suffering as currency for his imagined pact.

Rem’s worldview is built on deliberate cruelty rather than confusion. He engineers lies with precision, choosing narratives that fracture communities and poison trust. He enjoys watching people turn on each other. He calls that chaos “evidence that the world is waking up.”

His online presence is a calculated weapon. He maintains dozens of aliases, each designed to seed panic and doubt in different audiences. He tracks which falsehoods spread fastest. He modifies them the way a biologist tweaks a virus.

Rem believes the government is a decaying structure begging to be burned down. He outlines attack scenarios, not to enact them directly, but to lure unstable followers into doing the work for him. He treats them as disposable pieces on a board. He feels nothing when they’re arrested or ruined.

In private, he rehearses speeches for the apocalypse he expects to orchestrate. He imagines himself standing over the ruins, claiming he was chosen to judge the world. He mistakes his own obsession for destiny. He thinks fear is the only honest language humans understand.

Description

Jessica Martinez is a festering pit of human depravity, a creature whose outward appearance barely conceals the rot within. She moves through the world not as a person, but as a predator, her eyes scanning for the next life she can ruin or extinguish. There is no remorse in her, only a vast, empty hunger for the suffering of others.

She preys on the vulnerable with poison, selling THC vape cartridges meticulously laced with lethal doses of fentanyl. She watches with cold satisfaction as her customers, often young people just seeking an escape, collapse and die from her product. Their last moments are a frantic struggle for breath that she finds amusing, a private symphony of her own creation.

Her depravity knows no earthly bounds. She has a deal with the staff at a local abortion clinic, where she collects the aborted fetuses. She takes them back to her squalid apartment and consumes them, sometimes raw, sometimes cooked in ways that would make a hardened veteran wretch.

The remains, what little is left after her feasts, are discarded. She finds a particular, sick pleasure in leaving the bloody, mangled remnants in trash cans outside of churches on Sunday mornings. It is a grotesque offering to a God she mocks, a final desecration of all that is holy.

When her hunger for perversion isn't sated by murder and cannibalism, she turns to filth. She will eat her own excrement, or that of others, with no hesitation. It is an act of ultimate degradation that she performs with a smile, a final confirmation that she is utterly devoid of a soul.