[ WP ] You meet a serial killer . His next target is you and the only way to dissuade him is to persuade him why he is the worst serial killer .

He is n't ugly. Or particularly strange looking. There's just something about his appearance, his way of talking, his posture, that suggests a general rejection of cultural norms. And not a conscious rejection. This is no free-thinker, no rebel. This is a man who simply does n't belong. 
 
 `` I said get in the van''. 
 
 `` You did say that, did n't you? Look, I'm pretty sure I know what's going on here''. 
 
 `` I do n't give a shit what you think is going on here. Get in the van or you die right here''. 
 
 His eyes are bloodshot, but his hands are steady. This man has done this before. And more importantly, he's too dumb to know how obvious that is. 
 
 `` Really? Right here? Right in view of that security camera across the street, under the Rent-A-Car sign?'' 
 
 He hesitates. There is no security camera. But I do n't expect him to know that. He's clearly uneducated, but that's not the worst part. He just ca n't connect the dots. I'm starting to see it now. It's on his clothes, his eyes, his mouth that does n't move right, his defensive posture and eyes that ca n't seem to rest on anything for more than half a second. They tell me about his childhood, his loss, and the abuse. The pent-up rage and the inability to articulate it. 
 
 `` There ai n't no fucking camera''. 
 
 He does n't believe is own words. And what is that accent? No, not an accent. A speech impediment. So that's why the other kids made fun of him. Or maybe his mother beat him. Probably both. Whatever. I do n't really give a shit. 
 
 `` Look, let's start over. what's your name?'' 
 
 `` I'm the last man you'll ever...'' 
 
 `` Yeah, let me just stop you right there. We both know you already fucked this up. How many times have you done this? Three? Four?'' 
 
 He says nothing, but his nervous eyes tell me I'm not far off. 
 
 `` They were children were n't they? Or maybe college girls?'' 
 
 `` You're all the same. You're all sheep''. 
 
 That spite. He hates me. He hates the world. Somehow we wronged him, and he's going to make it right. Or he would, if he were n't such an idiot. 
 
 `` Not to be rude, but I think you may have moved into the big leagues too quickly''. 
 
 `` What the fuck are you...'' 
 
 `` Just let me finish. Clearly you have needs, and believe me I'm not going to judge you for that. I have needs to, and God knows they are n't all kosher, if you know what I mean. But you have to pace yourself. A child is one thing. Me? An adult is something else. I'm not saying you could n't do me, but that's like a kid thinking he can hunt a bear after shooting his neighbor's dog. See what I mean?'' 
 
 He says nothing. His big, wet eyes are a real time broadcast of his every thought. 
 
 `` Here's an idea, and I think you should listen. It's the best thing for both of us. Why do n't you put down the knife, get in your van, and drive away. I wo n't say a word. Like I said, I do n't begrudge you your needs. You get to hone your craft which, let's be honest, could use some work. And I get to live. What do you say?'' 
 
 The eyes. I know he's going to accept before he even thinks it. 
 
 `` Fine''. 
 
 He turns to open the van's door. Is it really going to be this easy? How did he even make it this far? Well, I suppose those children did n't put up much of a fight. What an amateur. 
 
 The palm of my open hand contacts the back of his head as he opens the door. Within seconds I have him in the back of his own van, out cold. And look at this! All the tools I need. Well, all the basics at least. Like I said, he's an amateur. 
 
 I lean over his still form. 
 
 `` I'm going to give you what any amateur would kill for: a chance to learn from a pro. Unfortunately you wo n't live through the lesson. Ah well, I suppose that's the nature of this game''.
