Yvonne wasn't familiar with this part of town. Her foot wasn't as heavy on the gas as it normally would be, and she struggled to keep her eyes on the road. She glanced around quite a bit, taking in the buildings and also trying to see if she could spot any fresh blood. That stuff pops out.

She glanced at her notepad as she pulled it out of her pocket, where she had written down the address, before glancing up at the upcoming street sign. This was it. Yvonne found she was having an even harder time watching the road, so she just parked. She sat there for a moment, debating. Should she get out and hope not to get killed? She was really wishing she carried something right now. A notepad and pen wouldn't be much against a serial killer.

Eventually, she sighed and decided to drive a little farther. When she was as close as she could get to a vehicle, she got out, took her keys, and put them in her jacket pocket. She stood, closing her door, completely forgetting to lock her car. Yvonne took a deep breath and blew it out sharply before briskly walking towards what looked like an incredibly shady alleyway.

Yvonne was subconsciously preparing herself for something to jump out at her. Her muscles were tensing, and her palms were beginning to get sweaty. Why wasn't anybody here yet? She could hear the sirens, but usually, people kicked and shoved and fought to get a glimpse of the gruesome scene.

(Maybe the memory loss can be progressive? And yeah, I like the idea of something specific needing to happen in order to get rid of it)

He continued kicking around the can in the middle of the alleyway. He wasn't trying to hide or anything, simply waiting for someone that could chase after him. Soon, he got bored of kicking the can around, and simply sat in the middle of the alley.

Soon, he finally heard what he'd been waiting for. Standing up, he looked towards the entrance of the alley. Though, he was confused when he saw a girl, around the same age as him, instead of the usual barrage of policemen.

"Hey, what're you doing here? I was expecting the police, not some random girl." Kyong, or the Silver Killer, had his hands in his pockets, looking over towards the other person in the alleyway with him. He wasn't going to kill this girl, though he'd probably use his powers to make her forget about the interaction once he was done.

While his figure was shadowed by the tall walls of the buildings surrounding him, it was pretty obvious who he was, by the glow of his silver eyes and the striking blonde hair that stood out. Despite his relaxed figure, his intense stare stayed glued on the girl, in case she would try anything.

(I like that! Perhaps it can be progressive, and when certain events play out, she remembers some?)

As Yvonne rounded the walls of the alleyway, she stopped on a dime, her notebook and pen shaking. Oh wait, those were her hands. She silently chided herself. She was pretty sure that serial killers could smell fear. She put her notebook and pen back into her jacket, tucking her hands in her armpits to stop them from shaking.

The backlight cast her shadow down the alleyway, practically reaching the Silver Killer. His gaze was what rooted her in place, and it was a long moment before she could reply. Her throat had gone dry despite his brushing her off. She swallowed, and it was incredibly loud in her ears.

"Uhm..." She was incredibly proud that her voice wasn't too shaky. "Listen, I'm just here to get the story." That brought a thought into her mind. If she could get a quote from the Silver Killer himself...people probably wouldn't believe her. But still.

Yvonne was still very much rooted to the spot where she stood, already thinking about what she could've said or done to not wind up in this situation. With a killer.

(Yes, that sounds perfect!)

Kyong stared at the girl for a good minute, his silver eyes unmoving as he looked. He wasn't like most of the serial killers you'd see on tv, who jump away as soon as they've got the job done. He stayed, waited for people to chase him. To him, it's a thrill to be chased down and shot at, because he never knows what the police will try next.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere 'till the police get here, so get your story while you can." After that, he said something in a different language, in Korean. He turned his back to the girl, grabbing the can that he was kicking around and crushing it in his hand.

"So, a reporter? You guys usually don't come until after the police are here." He threw the can to the side, looking back at the girl and giving a sort of side glare, but it was mostly just a glance. His tall figure turned again, walking over towards her with that unfaltering gaze.

He simply stood in front of her, looking down on her. He didn't seem to have any malicious intent, nor did he seem like a killer at all in that moment, but this was the Silver Killer they were talking about. That intense gaze of his was well-known to many people around the world.

(Also, an idea for when Kyong uses his power, possibly Yvonne could pass out, and that could give Kyong time to wash the dye in his hair out, aka not be the Silver Killer anymore)

As he stared at her silently for a long moment, she grew more uncomfortable and nervous. She kept adjusting her hands under her armpits, not taking her eyes off of the Silver Killer because she didn't exactly fancy getting murdered today.

She was taken aback when he told her she could get her story, and she was even more surprised that he turned his back on her. Yvonne wasn't sure if he was aware that was a vulnerability, and she wasn't sure what he had said in the other language, but she was...confused.

"Yeah, I'm a journalist. Maybe the police can't find the place...or...something." When he turned back towards her, she grew intimidated once more, her voice trailing off. Despite being tall, she felt small in his presence, especially the closer he got. Of course, she couldn't let him see that, so she held her ground, jutting her chin out.

"And you're blocking my view of your crime scene." She figured she was likely to be questioned by the police now, as she was the first one on the scene that was still here and alive. It was unlikely that she would be a suspect, as everyone knows what the Silver Killer looked like. "Is there anything you'd like to say to the public?" She offered, although it was an empty one.

(Okay, that works!)

Kyong seemed to be uninterested in anything the girl was saying, his gaze stuck on the girl for a good minute. He then moved out of the way, showing the quite gruesome death behind him. He looked over at it with what seemed like disenterest, then responded to her question. "No. They don't need to hear anything I need to say. The media is too pushy, anyways."

He walked back over to the body that was propped up against a wall, grabbing their head and pulling it up towards him, then searching through their pockets. He didn't find much, to his dissatisfaction, except a cracked phone - which was probably his doing - and a few loose coins. He scoffed, tossing the body back down and throwing his findings aside.

He looked back over at the reporter that was still in the alley. "Actually, tell you're little media group this. I don't do this for money or fame. I simply do it because I want to." While he mostly lied, there was some truth to his statement. He didn't care for money, nor did he care about the media's thoughts on his situation.

He looked back down at the body, grabbing the silver necklace off of them. He inspected it for a second, before putting it around his own neck. With a satisfied huff, he walked away from the body, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Then why are you still here?" She asked, her eyes sliding from him to the mangled corpse behind him. Questions suddenly started to burn holes in her brain, in her tongue. For now, she let them burn, not needing him to walk away. Surely he understood journalism was part of the media.

As he started moving over to his victim, her gaze flicked back to him, still untrusting. Her eyebrows raised as he searched the body and then tossed it aside. Was he looking for something? Did he get a kick from killing? What was it that drove him to murder in the first place, and why keep doing it?

When the Silver Killer looked back at her and started speaking, she pulled out her notebook and pen, scribbling his words down quickly. Well, that answered one of her questions. Surely he was lying or telling a half-truth, though, right? Few just killed because they wanted to.

Yvonne glanced up as he pulled the necklace off of the remains, but she was quickly getting lost in her own thoughts. How was she supposed to write this without sounding as though she had twisted the story in some way or sounding like she was lying? Sure, many people had seen the Silver Killer, but how many had actually had some sort of conversation with him?

Kyong let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through the blonde hair that fell over his face. Despite his cold demeanor, he didn't seem to want to bring any harm to the reporter, though he also seemed quite disappointed that he was having to talk to her as well.

He pushed himself off the wall, walking back over to the reporter. His gaze wasn't as stern as before, but it still had that chilling look to it, one that could make any person's bones shiver. His silver eyes rested on the girl for quite a while, before he gave another sigh and looked down at his hand.

"Listen, you don't need to remember this happened. Like- At all. I don't really feel bad for doing this, but I might as well apologize in advance." He raised his hand up, and for a second, nothing happened. Before black tendrils, seemingly made of darkness, came out of his hand and wrapped around the girl's head.

(Memory loss tiem :>)

After a few seconds, he forced the tendrils to retreat back into his hand, with some sort of realization, he started speaking in Korean, seemingly angry about something. He looked at the girl and walked forward to put his hands on her shoulders, as to support her.

(Let's say he accidentally erased too much of her memory?)

She had no idea what he was talking about. Yvonne started to get uneasy again. It wasn't like he was threatening to make her forget this. When he raised his hand, she winced, ready for him to plunge a knife into her heart. When that didn't happen, she opened her eyes to see something worse. What was going on?

As the black tendrils started to snake around her head, she tried to get them off, but to no avail. The next thing she knew, everything went black, and she was out, her notebook and pen falling to the ground as her whole body went limp.

(Okay, yeah!)

(Little did she know, he was, indeed, threatening to make her forget this)

He grabbed the body, slowly and carefully leaning her against a wall. Since he wasn't used to dealing with bodies that were still alive, he didn't know how gentle he had to be. He inspected her to make sure she wasn't hurt, then stood back up straight, thinking for a second.

He stared down at the body for what seemed like ages, before grabbing out what seemed to be a bottle of water, and pouring it over his head, leaning his head forward as to not get any on his clothes. As the water ran down his hair, it went to a black coloration, his normal hair color.

He was no longer the Silver Killer. He was now Kyong Yun. As he shook the excess water out of his hair, he bent down to grab the notebook and pen that the reporter dropped. He pulled the mask off his face, shoving it into his pocket, then putting the notebook and pen right next to the reporter's limp body.

"She should wake up in a few minutes... I removed too much. Stupid power." He then looked down, and hit his hand with something like a karate chop. He walked away and simply sat down across from the girl in the alley, waiting for her to wake up.