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Jonah never intended to kill anybody. He tried to find other means of getting rid of the people in his way, but they always seemed to find their way back. Killing was, initially, a last resort option.
That was back when he viewed violence as unnecessary and vulgar.
His first kill was messy. A shaky gunshot that nearly missed its target. Blood was everywhere and Jonah couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger again. Instead he just watched as the man slowly choked on his own blood and died. It was a learning experience for him; he Saw the process of death and Understood it.
When he took his first host, leaving behind the body of Jonah Magnus was a killing in itself. This time he Saw from the other side of the knife. His own blood dripped from his fingertips, his own flesh ripped and tore at the touch of the blade. In the terror and pain he found brilliance.
It wasn’t long until he realized that killing was more than utility to him. It was necessary still, but he found pleasure in the act. He enjoyed the spray of blood from a gunshot wound, the harsh crunch of bone against a blunt instrument, the gentle parting of flesh beneath a knife. It was exhilarating. Over the years, he experimented, always learning and Seeing new things. One time he even went to a Grifter’s Bone concert just to see the carnage.
He tried to keep his murders limited to only those who obstructed his path and those who had to die for the greater good of his mission, but he kept finding excuses to kill more often. It was too addicting. He craved the violence.
Something had changed in him that day Jonah took his first life. Something had taken hold of him and was feeding off his newfound addiction. He served the Eye, but every time he killed, the Slaughter’s grip on him grew ever tighter.