Cinderella Man

CHAPTER 1: New Orleans

Oliver got on the plane. He knew no one in the vicinity would acknowledge the fact that he was a dangerous serial killer. The passengers on the plane were all smartly dressed in sharp tuxedos and stunning dresses. They all sat in silence, either reading the newspaper, slumbering, or soothing their weeping child. Oliver crossed one leg over the other, breathing in the new atmosphere of America. He had a posh English accent, although he changed it to blend in with the Americans. Oliver dusted off his suit, pulling his fedora on his head. He stood up as the plane landed on the ground, a knife putting weight on his built-up mackintosh. One side drooped slightly more to the ground due to the weapon lingering about in there. He ambled out of the provided stairs, holding back the people behind him. Oliver ran his hand down the side of the staircase, dust gathering on his pale hand. As Oliver started to advance closer to the end of the staircase, the land was already lit up bright with illuminated signs, casinos, and inns. A Studebaker came skidding around the corner of the road; it came to an immediate halt as people crowded up and jogged across the road in a hurry.
Oliver looked over in the windows, seeing multiple people in an inn, dancing, and laughing together. Snow twirled around, landing gently on the floor. There were only a minority of the fluffy white specs frolicking about, as snow was a rare occurrence in New Orleans. Oliver pressed his face up against the inn's window. He grabbed the sleeve of his mack and wiped the fogged up glass. As it was wiped clean, a blurry sight of the people pirouetting and dancing appeared in Oliver's frame of sight. They all seemed to be having fun. It seemed like a perfect place to hunt out a victim.
Oliver stepped in, lurking around the corner of the room shadily. The brim of his fedora cast a dark shadow over his eyes, and he lit a cigar. The smoked puffed out of his mouth in an 'O' shape, and loitered around the area of the luminous room. He could see someone hiding a beer bottle underneath the table, bending over to cover the glass. Oliver could comprehend the fact that the Prohibition was in effect, although he didn't swindle. He watched a young and vivid couple sway around the room, looking into each others eyes with deep affection. Oliver removed his fedora to reveal his flowy brunette hair. He found an empty table cast into a secluded area. He took up the seat, once more crossing his legs. Oliver's eyes drifted around the room, taking in the people walking by, targeting the next victim. He held a rolled up newspaper by his side. If anyone caught him, he would be sure to pretend to read the news. No one seemed like a good target. No one seemed fun to mess with. Oliver's ears perked up at the sound of soft jazz music echoing in the room. His eyes lit up, and he found himself oscillating to the music. His foot tapped on the floor, making a light thumping noise.