Interpersonal Story

Miss Murder and the Black Death
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nhp6ULk7mE
Alice Francis - Shoot Him Down

Real Name	Unknown		Unknown
Alias	Miss Murder		Black Death
Place of Origin	Unknown		Easitown
Residence	Auric Mansion, Center City		Center City, Apartments
Species	human		human
Age	suspected between the age of 25 and 40		36
Powers	TBA		TBA
Weaknesses	TBF		TBF
Physical Appearance	6' tall, slender, black hair, pale skin, black swing dress complete with long black gloves and black heels. Dark eyes, red lipstick.  [ART COMING SOON]		6'3" tall, thick and burly. Black hair, pale slightly tanned skin. Costume is a black shirt with the punisher symbol on it.  [ART COMING SOON]
Modus Operandi	She's a psychotic murderer. Lures men to their doom and generally kills them by snapping their neck in public, usually on the dance floor.		TBW
History
Theme

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"Miss Murder, Miss Murder, won't you dance with me? Spin me around the room, just like the devils wheel. Then the world stops and down to the floor I fall. Neck twisted left, neck twisted right. Out of the club you flee, a smile stolen on your lips, and a life floating away." ~ Unknown, circa 1920. 

The night was as young as a newly initiated vestal virgin. Even still John King was as drunk as can be at the club down on Evan's St. Among the first people to arrive at the club as it opened - he sat drinking long before the crowd began to show up. The bartender kept serving up his drinks, and he kept on knocking them back. He was an obvious alcoholic. But he could hold his liquor. Before the night even reached her coming of age, John King was removed from the Club and refused at the others nearby. He walked down Evans Street looking for a place to let him to drink even more. Now he stumbled and he bumbled, leaning into buildings for support, or lamp-posts, and occasionally bumping into people. One person he stumbled into appeared beautifully before him. He made to flirt, but he had had a little too much alcohol at the first, and only, club that night. She lightly put a gloved hand on his shoulder and continued walking on her way. He stood and watched her go before he began to feel dizzy. He stumbled over to a bus stop bench and sat down. He dozed off into a drunken slumber. 

In the club on Evans street where John King had been sitting and drinking, this beautiful lady entered. Her black heels clicked as she walked in and swaggered up to the bar to ask for a drink. The bartender smiled and a toothy smile and slid a mixed drink to her. A mild green colored appletini, sweet enough to take the bite off the alcohol. She flashed him a closed smiled and fluttered her eyes. He continued smiling at her even as she walked away, deeper into the club. His eyes were fastened not on her slim waist, but on the back of her head, in the vain hope that she would turn around and give him another smile. . . .