Turenne sat in his cell, a sick evil smirk on his face. How long had he been here, he didn't care. Every moment of every day alone was spent on new ways to make people scream. He urged for blood and tears. Turenne felt the orange jumpsuit a bit unflattering. He wore it half way and used the sleeves as a belt. He wore nothing on his torso, a large tattoo on his chest in plain sight. He paced back and forth remembering his crimes. He remembered how they screamed and begged for mercy, he would laugh at them for being so foolish as to think they would get mercy. The cell was cramped and he had no interaction with anyone. Sometimes he liked the solitude, other times he wished someone was there...not to keep him company, but to fill his blood lust.