Open file for Chase Kimura?
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-- Chase Kimura is the most wanted man in the world.
He is unpredictable and is highly dangerous. If you see him, contact the police immediately and evacualate the area.
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Chase Kimura thrived off of the attention of others, energized off of the eyes of the many that watched him and every tongue that spoke of his name. At the privilege and obsession with the attention he received, he only wanted one more thing, more. Even as a small child, he always found a way to bring in a crowd. Working at his family’s restaurant he would attract people in, not only with his good looks, but with his knife throwing. He laughed at how naive these tourists were, thinking how it was traditional in Japan. With the money Chase brought into the restaurant, his father spent it on vocal and dancing lessons, pushing Chase to receive the fame he never had.
Chase didn’t disappoint, after years of showing his abilities to some nobodies at talent shows, he was finally on his way to stardom. A producer by the name of Chrisopher from some company recruited Chase into their training program. He was soon moved into the dorm, in Seoul, Korea, moving away from his hometown Tamikoa in Fukushima, Japan. For 14 hours a day, he was crafted into a star. Trained how to sing, dance, how to carry himself with confidence and modesty.
As draining as it was, it worked. Christopher picked Chase to debut in a group called “One Star”. Fame was almost immediate. Chase lived in a daze of interviews and adortion, and through the frenzied schedule exhausted his bandmates, but he was invigorated. Each day was an affirmation that he was greater than the mediocrity society spewed out.
But overtime, he grew annoyed. When he looked at his fans, he saw their joy split between the bandmates. He grew envious. The validation he wanted surged through him, growing him wanting more. He kept up a persona, mimicking a charm that was buried deep under the loath he felt. He recorded the latest One Star album with his bandmates, never missing a beat. After a lunch break, he returned to the studio to discover God had given him a gift. The scent of burning wires was unmistakable. He rushed to the practice room, finding the door blocked by a fallen speaker. On the other side of the door, his bandmates pounded on the door, the screams were accompanied by the sound of crackling flames.
Chase called to them, running to the speakers and grabbing one and he- stopped? He froze in place. Each breath taken was a conscious, delicate process that required all of his attention. His bandmates' cries were hardly audible… until he slowly backed away. He heard it. They were screaming his name as they burned to death. Screaming for Chase to save them.
“Chase! Chase! Chase Kimura!”
It was the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. When the fire department arrived, he cried, his tears were genuine.
Chase was celebrated as a tragic figure, a hero who did anything he could to save his friends. Christopher paraded him though many interviews until it was time to rebrand. He was soon reborn under the stage name as “The Trickster”, a solo artist who produced his own songs, dueling a soft and sweet heart under a hard and while exterior. But, away from tv stages and concert setups, something dark grew.
He targeted ones that lived alone, going to them at night.His first was a college student, majoring in music with a captivating voice. Chase woke them up in the middle of the night with a baseball bat to the head, biding his arms and legs, gagging him with duct tape to his mouth. He tortured them for hours, dissecting them for hours. But yet, something was missing, a connection, a sound. He wanted, no, needed to hear his victim’s voice pleading for his life as Chase killed him. But sadly, all he received was a muffled cry though the rags.
He learned and adjusted.His victims had to be abducted, he had to drive them to an abandoned building where he could let their screams carry their unrestrained emotion. Chase created music from it, prodding them in the right place to get the different types of shrieks and cries he so desperately wanted. He stabbed the quadratus lumborum to create a long guttural wail, while slashing the carotid artery created a beautiful sound, much like a cat being strangled. There was honesty in their suffering. Chase recorded each session, working them into his songs, hiding the screams and cries behind layers of beautiful melodies.
He was happy with his work, He left hits for the police, teasing them. He left an arrangement of a mink boa from a recent photoshoot he did around one of his victim’s slashed throat. For his next killing, he removed the teeth from a man and used it for a prop in the background of his music video. During a particular crave for attention, he killed a fan he met during a meet and greet, replacing her eyes with diamond cufflinks and writing “I have seen God” across her chest in blood. Each scene was beautiful.
Between his murderings and music, Chase’s work was discussed globally. However as violent as his art style has become, his music career took a bad hit. Revenue was down and the company’s exclusive pointed thor fingers at Chase. Christopher, with as best professional fury he could muster, came to his defense. Sadly he was outnumbered. The company decided Chase can’t produce his songs any longer.
The decision was heartbreaking. His songs were created with genuine human emotion, yet the exclusives rejected anything that was not expected and plain old generic. And so be it. If they could not understand his art, he would incorporate them into it until they understood.
He had three months until he was performing at a private show for the company’s board members.. Three months to create a beautiful plan. He donated an obscene amount of money to a vet in exchange for canisters of nitrous oxide, then bribed the technicians of the company’s private theater for access to the room. His celebrity status granted him the benefit of the doubt no other person could get. When the show was ready, gas seeped into the room as the exclusives and stagehands waited for Chase, who was conveniently running late.
When he finally arrived, half conscious bodies were splayed in their seats, some crawling across the floor. He worked fast, binding everyone’s bodies, he only paused when he got to Chrisopher- the man who picked him from his small, rundown hometown and set him on the path he deserved. Chase would reward him, granting him special access to the coming display of his music creation. Even under sedation, he fought with that raging storm Chase always thought was cute. Chase prompted him upn as a lone audience member, prying his eyes open. The other’s that were sniveling and sobbing, were brought up onto the stage to perform their final act. With a sneer on his face, Chase slapped makeup onto their faces and shone lights on them. They soon became his instruments.
To the sounds of Chase’s self created melodies, he tortured them, gracefully dashing from one body tot he other. He conducted an operatic crescendo from their scream. It was beautiful to his ears. They whimpered, cried for their loved ones, for their mothers. It was pathetic and they did it while keeping their eyes on Chase.
Music played form the stage until, with one final toss of his throwing knife, his final human instrument fell silent and the music stopped. Covered in blood and sweat, an exhausted Chase looked to Chrisopher and bowed. The curtain call. He had created the perfect performance. With his blades in his hand, he made his way over to Chrisopher, prepared to tie the loose ends before the credits rolled. But when he reached him, a black fog filled the room.
From where? He did not know. But, it billowed around the two of them. It was damp, cool… comfortable. He saw the grand stage, temples and forests, hospitals and slaughterhouses. An eternal place with rusted hooks, sustained by millions of eyes that would watch him, run from him… experience him in all his glory. All Chase had to do was accept, become an implement of The Fog. And most importantly, make them scream.
Encore.
Opening profile for Chase Kimura...
Profile for Chase Kimura opened.
Chase Kimura
Age: 23
Birthplace: Tamikoa- Fukushima, Japan
Home: Seoul, Republic of Korea
Occupation: Idol
Chase Kimura was once the most famous k-pop musician who soon became a deranged serial killer after his fame began to fade.
Opening crime file for CHase Kimura..
Crime file opened.
- Breaking and Entering
- Serial Murdering
- Kidnapping
- Mutilation
- Stalking
- Torture
The admin for Chase Kimura is currently working full time, please be mindful that they are busy and will not always answer.
Name: Jessi.
Age: 20.
Pronouns: They/them.
Please not they will not talk ooc unless stated otherwise. They will use "//" to talk in ooc. Other then that, everything is strictly ic.
Logging out..
See you next time, Ag- ERROR.
Thought you could hide from me, Detective?
We'll meet soon, Detective.
C.K.
It's a shame you couldn't get though a simple carrd, Detective.
I would say you were almost scared.. how pathetically cute is that.
I'm sure we'll see eaachother soon enough.
C.K.