The man earned his name-tag from romancing captive girls. Each time they had become eighteen and vanished into stories. Disappeared into workplaces so that their truth became rumours plausibly denied. A clockwork pervert, the prizes inevitably became too old, and he had to collect someone new.
Women would avoid being in his presence for they could sense his demon soul. A refusal to stand in the same room alone together. His pollutant spirit locked him in the remote office down the hall. For the younger girls though, he felt like a Dad. And that’s what he liked them to say.