Lucas was eating out of a small and neatly arranged lunch-box.

“Come on, dude, don’t be shy. What’s your favorite movie?” the Necromancer sat at the other end of the table and ate with composure and a smile on his face.

If dangerous Undeads had not been all around the small kitchen, it would have been hard to remind himself not to forget who the man in front of him was.

Max, the Necromancer.

“I don’t know,” Lucas scratched his head while eating some rice, “Die Hard?”

“Never understood the big deal with such a movie, to be honest,” Max spoke and then resumed eating. He had impeccable table manners, and he was a great host, a charismatic conversationalist.

“I like how McClane is portrayed, I don’t know,” Lucas shrugged.

After a little silence and a long stare from the Necromancer, he remembered to ask a question back. The last he had forgotten, the Undeads had whipped him once he had left Max's presence. It had obviously been his doing, but the man liked to keep up some appearances.

“What’s your favorite film, Max?” Lucas asked, trying to keep a level tone.

“Oh, dude! I love Kung-Fu Panda!” Max beamed.

Lucas choked so hard on the rice that some grains went through his nose. He had to take a good half a minute before looking to a satisfied Max, who had clearly been aiming for such a reaction.

The Necromancer, as Lucas had noticed, loved to impress. He was a rather theatrical man, with a penchant for cracking jokes or telling facts and then going silent for several seconds, waiting for someone to react. Often, he would have his own Undeads start clapping after he said something he thought was witty or smart.

To be honest, the reason no one clapped around him was that he tended to kill, torture, or maim whoever got under his hands.

Lucas eyed the huge swastika on its neck and froze for a second, remembering what kind of monster he was facing.

“Oh, come on, Lucas. Still staring at this old tattoo? Don’t worry, I’ll get it removed. It irks me as much as it does to you. You know, I had some fallouts with the Nazi-boys. I liked their ideas at first and even got this tattoo some years ago to be accepted among them. But, dude, they were so edgy. And what’s up with this shaving your head thing? Yuck. Bald men are pretty much like fat people, gross.”

Lucas tried a slight smile and forced himself to participate in the discussion to avoid being tortured later.

“Why didn’t you do it in a hidden place? I imagine it made your life harder among people,” Lucas said.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Ah! You wouldn’t imagine! Even shopping for groceries was hard. What an experience! But it was funny at times, especially when instead of anger I could see fear!” the Necromancer laughed with a beautiful and crystalline voice.

“Dude, once there was this old Jewish woman at the superstore, and she started trembling, shivering, and crying. Oh, dude, such a delight. For a second, I thought she might have a stroke or something. You know, between you and me, I tried licking my lips like a monster or doing some villainous stuff with my face, like a dark frown, but she didn’t buy it. In the end, she didn’t have a stroke, she just cried a little. Pity,” Max chomped down on some of the fish that he had personally cut, salted, and seared.

Lucas forced a smile, but he didn’t manage a laugh. It was too so horrifying that his guts were twisting. He wasn’t even sure Max knew about his Latino origins. His father was Mexican, but he was a very white Mexican man, and his mother was Canadian. Therefore, Lucas looked as white as they made them. He had never been so grateful for his light skin in his entire life. At some point, he even envied people with darker skin, thinking it looked cooler; but now, he wouldn’t even stay out in the sun too much out of fear of getting a bit too tanned for Max’s tastes.

“Max, do you mind if I ask how come you fell out with the Nazis? And you didn’t answer the Tattoo question. Instead, you told me to remind you when you digressed so much.”

The necromancer loved to tell stories. But he was erratic while doing so. He would start recounting some tale, and then he would absolutely forget where he had started from. Lucas was so ensnared by his personality sometimes that he felt disgusted with himself.

“Oh, right! Lucas, I’m so sorry! I’m such a goof!” Max laughed heartily. “Well, see, the hate groups have this mafia-like policy that you could sum up as ‘once you are in, you never get out’. It would have indeed been nicer if you could do a trial period, with them honestly,” Max snorted, “but they wanted me to prove myself with a tattoo. I told the guys I’d rather get someone’s life, you know? I had this beautiful plan! Oh, wait, did I tell you why the tattoo wasn’t a problem for my work? Oh, shoot, I didn’t tell you what my work was!”

Max fake-hit his head with a fist, making a funny face.

“I used to work in a bank, but I jumped on the crypto-train in time to become filthy rich. Mind you, I never spent much money on luxuries. I shopped good groceries and bought a nice house in the suburbs, but I was your average and friendly neighborhood Nazi, haha!”

Lucas laughed, half in pure abject terror and a half because the joke had actually got him.

“But yeah, I had to prove my allegiance to the Nazi group. They didn’t go along with my murder plan. I had all these data on some Jews in a close suburban town, planned the police routes, how to get rid of the bodies after a bit of torture. I mean, you would expect Nazis to recognize some real effort, dude. Instead, guess what?”

Lucas stumbled after a second when he realized Max actually wanted him to guess.

“They chickened out?”

Max slammed his hand on the table so strongly that the table almost broke.

“YEAH! Wonderfully put, they chickened out! I mean, they said I was a lunatic and whatnot. But they still liked the initiative and took me in. So, instead of murdering some Jews, I got a tattoo. Some people would call it a nicer deal. I call it sloppy!”

Max resumed eating for a few seconds, and then he almost choked himself.

“Oh, dude, sorry, I did it again. Yeah, I fell out with the Nazis a bit after that. I stayed with the guys for a few years, trying to incite some hate on the internet and little things. But, if I have to be honest, it had become more of a hobby to me than anything else. So, yeah, I went on and killed them. Dude, it was so satisfying. By the time I gutted them, I had come to hate their shiny bald heads so much that I actually scalped them! Man, what a sight, let me tell you! Sure it’s a bit gross, but you can make very nice ellipses when cutting the skin! Shoot, I can show you after lunch! Hurry up!”