Robert Miller on - Robert Miller
Darkness and evil are just words one uses to ease the mind of what is really going on around them... they are illusions! Horror/Crime/Mafia/Supernatural/Open

49 years old
Los Angeles, California
United States

Last Login:
October 24 2021

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Member Since:August 29, 2015

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About me:

You want to know what's in my mind? I really don't think that is a good idea for all of you and for those who are faint of heart because my story has no happy endings nor does it end in anything but blood.

My name is Robert. T. Miller but I don't use my middle name all that much anymore because it reminds me of my father who I hated very much, but we will get to that part soon.

I grew up in L.A the town where anything can happen and nothing is as it seems. My father was a bastard drunk and my mother? Well she was a sweet kinded woman who never did any wrong not even when my father would beat her up.

At the age of 3 I took out my anger on animals, it started first with tearing the wings off of flies and then became the killing of my annoying neighbour's dog at the age of 5.

Animals started to go missing around town and no one knew why, though I knew because it was my doing. When I was 7 I took them and killed them in various different ways and loved every moment of it.

One day my bastard father saw what I was doing and beat me up for it, so naturally I defended myself but he got the best of me and my mother stood there not doing a f***ing thing to stop the bastard.

At the age of 10 I had enough of them both and took a knife from the kitchen finding them both in their bed and that is when I killed them. My mother I killed fast and without much pain but my father? Well I cut that son of a bitch up bit by bit until there was only blood and gore left on the bed next to my mother's dead body.

I then put the knife in the hands of a man I found walking the streets homeless and made it seem like he had killed them and then himself. when the police were called I acted like the scared little boy, a perfect proformence if I do say so myself and they were none the wiser.

I was then taken to live with my aunt who took me in gladly and gave me a good life, anything I wanted I would have no matter how dark and twisted it was. We had a good life together and when I turned 15 she decided I was old enough to be let into her secret room.

When we got there I saw things of magic,dead bodies sacrificed and candles all over the place. I then understood where the killer gene came from and that made us closer.

I kept killing but at the age of 18 I was sent to millitary school to try and teach me how to be a man, naturally I hated it there and one night everyone was found brutally killed in the camp and I was no where to be found.

when I was old enough I went out on my own and started to kill pretty girls who turned me down and I loved it. Each one was found in their home cut up and some had limbs missing while others had the eyes missing as well.

After a while I got tiered of all that and so I moved on to killing groups of people in the most twisted ways I could think of like for example tying them all up to a wheel that slowly tore them apart and again when the bodies were found the eyes were missing.

I also killed a cop that found me by knocking him down and putting his arms and legs into bear traps and then they closed on him one by one and when he couldn't move I cut him open from his stomach to his head letting the insides come out.

when I was 25 I found one of my aunt's many magic books and being already trained in the dark arts I called up a demon. This demon was impressed by the sacrifice I made for him and thus he turned me into a demon.

With my new found immortality I was free to kill as I saw fit with no one to get in my way. There were of course demon hunters, but they were all found with out their eyes,tongues and hung from trees where their insides fell out after I cut them through with my new found claws and my trusty knife as well.

I am now 47 but I do not look it of course and I love that fact all too much. I have killed over 500 people in my time and 1000 more after becoming a demon.

Now I know what you must be thinking, I am doing this because I have motive or for power and sh*t like that but I am here to tell you I do it for only one reason... I love it too f***ing much to ever stop.

Every year I step up my game and everytime the cops are clueless to stop me. They have come to call me the Phantom Killer and it is a name that I embrace because I love it so much. I have also been known to kill for the Mob when it pays me to do so and even that I have come to love as well.

Do you dare step into my world? I warn you, it might be the last thing you ever do

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Robert Miller's Friends Comments
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Jan 10th 2021 - 8:36 PM

[[ OOC: I’M SO SORRY IF YOU SENT SOMETHING AND I JUST NEVER RESPONDED. I’m literally such a dumbass and I sincerely apologise for that. ]]

Although she hadn’t been violent herself growing up she had seen it out of the corners of her younger yes. The police had taken her father away when she was seven and she hadn’t seen him do anything wrong and why would the police take away a good guy? Of course she didn’t see his artistry when it came to conning the world out of money but to be arrested in front of her, and talked to for hours? Somehow she was able to just walk out of the precinct without being noticed and she had never seen him since. 

Those actions hadn’t made her crazy but it was just another stepping stone that lead to the production of the Harleycoaster, the deep dive that changed Harleen into the infamous Harley Quinn. Her face had been plastered across the Gotham Gazette more times than she could count. She stood out from the crowd, and eventually out the shadow of her partner in crime. She climbed the underworld, going from being his girl, to a force of her own. That was where she stood in Gotham City, and things were about to change.

Harley had given herself the night off after a successful heist the day before but after hearing some drama going off on her streets? Now that was something she had to see. Her leisurely walk took off into a run but by the time she’d the few blocks all she saw was the bodies on the ground. Well, that was a strong word given the state of the crime scene. At first the only explanation she had was Joker but there was no calling card, and well, eye-removal wasn’t exactly his MO. Taking a few steps back from the scene, doing her best not to disturb it, she accidently created a trail of her boot prints as she had walked through a puddle of blood. Now she was in the sh*t for something that wasn’t even her. Her first thought was to run, but the second, and definitely the crazier plan, was to find the person that did so she wasn’t framed for their crime. This was too insane even for her, but if the shoe fitted, which it obviously did they would have her locked up anyway. Calling out to the shadows, she hoped the perpetrator hadn’t strayed too far. 

“Look Mista’ I ain’t exactly sure who you are, but this madness definitely implies Mista’ is at least the right ter to use. Maybe yas could come outta here an’ we can talk about this?? Maybe I’ll even help ya clear up the mess!! My track record is bad, but I don’t exactly think the pigs that run the city are gonna accept the ‘yes I killed many people before but these two bodies aren’t mine’ schtick so if ya help me outta this, I’ll help ya too. GCPD got a lot on their plate but a guy like yaself, threatenin’ the top dogs on the streets like this. Ya gonna be in big trouble if ya don’t have a hand on these streets already!! We ain’t like other cities, and you wouldn’t wanna see the welcome parade after doin’ this!!”


Dec 18th 2019 - 6:49 PM

Harley had met a fair few serial killers in her time - she’d even been with one. Then in a way he captured his audience in a way that was far worse than a serial killer. It was the first label you’d place on the maniacal Clown Prince of Crime, and it wasn’t a label Harley wore with pride either. The things that made a mind fall off the wagon of normalcy had always been intriguing to her. But Gotham was Gotham. You’d struggle to find worse people anywhere else, maybe not by a body count but by the amount of sick and twisted thinking that took place on the streets. One alley was even nicknamed after the number of crimes that took place there on a nightly basis. 

She heard screams, shouts, the sounds of a mugging. It was usual, and she didn’t play goodie two shoes all the times, but there was no sign of the Bat coming out that night and she believed the male needed help. Flipping across the rooftops she watched from above. Of course this wasn’t a simple robbery, this was Gotham. It looked messy, and the male took off. Swinging down the steps, not touching the area, she took after him. Her red and black outfit only half blending into the shadows. If she’d have been spotted most cops would have put two and two together no matter how unlike her the scene was. She’d be a target and Harley needed that to stop now.

Ya know if ya gonna leave ‘em there ya gonna get me into some right trouble. I ain’t going back t’ Arkham fer somethin’ that weren’t me.

Abraham Rourke

Oct 5th 2019 - 5:33 PM

[It was rare for Abraham to do business of his own or make a request for a hit without inquiring with others first. There were men in his organization that could pull the job, but he was in touch with someone else. Robert Miller. This wasn't a professional hit that needed to be done. It was personal. A man pushed himself into the affairs of his ex-wife. Despite being an ex, she still meant something to him, though he would never admit it. Not to mention, this guy was a cop. Someone who needed to go. Abe sent a message to Robert with a location for their meeting. Secure. Closed off. A few men would lurk in the shadows to ensure Abe's safety should this go south. Standing outside of his black SUV, Abe waited, keeping an eye out for anyone nearing the warehouse.]
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