next to the Satyr Music Hall , was a young woman . She eyed him , one eyebrow raised in interest . She revealed a bronzed , bare leg as she leaned against the grime stained brickwork . The killer could clearly see that she wore no panties . She appeared to be an immigrant , likely arriving here before the war began ; her foreign accent evident in her speech . Hair cascaded beautifully from her scalp , illuminated under the gas lamp . For a moment she resembled an Angel , but her halo was transparent .
The midnight shadow man felt a wave of nausea as scenes of his past played in his mind . She reminded him of the society he had once embraced .
Confidence fading from her eyes , he reached in close and gently kissed her . “ Bye , darling ,” he said in a hushed voice . Feeling joyous , he gouged the glistening eyes from her warm trembling face with his razor sharp fingernails , watching blood and life flee from her body . She clutched at her face , moaning . She was even more beautiful as she died . Her body became limp and he focused on her dimples as he aroused himself softly and with ease . It was the needful intimacy of a killing pleasure .
The night was now suffocating into distant dreams of yesterday , the residue of black ash rising from the stale , infested streets . The entertainers from the music hall finished their gala celebration of song for the evening . Coughing and sickness soon began to follow the electrified crowd . It was getting easier for the killer to plan his next passionate moment .
He needed to satisfy his craving in the darkness and underworld where he could pursue his deadly desires even further . Walking with the pace of a lightning strike within the midnight hour , he lifted his hand from his jacket pocket and the stillness of his own breath caused him to tremble with joy . In his hand was a photograph . It appeared to be a younger version of himself with an adult couple standing over him . On the reverse of the photo it was dated November 1941 BELZEC . Names were written under the date . Francesca , Herman and Wolfgang . Putting away the photo , he slid his way into the basement of the music hall . He turned a switch and lights flickered to life , buzzing and rotating loosely above his head .
Wolfgang walked over to the table and opened up two large wooden chests , displaying tools overcrowding the space . These were specially designed tools , made from canisters used during past executions of wartime England . He grabbed one of the tools from the case , still stained with the blood of tortured souls from yesteryear . A memory came to his mind . It was of himself as a boy , a hammer in his hand , striking and killing his Mother Francesca . The song ‘ Moonlight Sonata ’ played repeatedly on the phonograph in the background . Hearing the song brought him back to the moment and his courage and strength fed and fueled his bloodlust .
The essence of toxins and blood mystified the air within the Satyr Music Hall . Wolfgang was preparing for an unforgettable event . An extravagant gala of formally dressed guests prepared themselves for an arrival of classical music at its bloodiest finest . Four of the most popular international acts were due to perform in the most exclusive hall of the entire complex . The room was of great magnitude and it housed one thousand guests during peak season . The performing artists were still travelling along the stormy roads as preparations were put into order for their arrival .
Irritating laughter rang through the backstage of the amphitheater . Wolfgang was not amused . Dressed in a black velvet stage gown and checkered pants with polished boots , he spat out a mouthful of chewed mint leaves . They landed in a soggy pile , just missing his left shoe . Banging his ears with his clenched fists , he recognized the hellish noise of the can-can