Post by The Lone Wolf on Jul 29, 2007 17:06:29 GMT -5
It was night, well passed midnight. The sky was absolutely black, stars and moon alike obscured by cloud cover hanging low and ominous over the land. All the lights were off in the quaint little building, the only illumination present spilling from a street light in through the window. The building was empty of human occupants. The dispatcher was out sick, bad case of the flu. It was a slow night, the lone squad car still on patrol set to receive any emergency calls via radio from the fire department. No police were to be found anywhere near the station. The station was empty of human occupants, but it was not empty, for It was there…
Breaking into the station had been easy, pathetically easy. Law Enforcement officers might think of themselves as somewhat of security experts, but the fact of the matter was that their feeble training really didn’t amount to anything when stacked up against millennia of experience from an individual steadfastly determined to avoid unwanted company.
The lock on the filing cabinet had been no more challenging. They might as well have left their “confidential” files printed on a billboard on the highway for all the good their security measures had done against It. After a minimum of searching, It had found what It was looking for, and it now sat reading the file of particular interest.
It was thankful that the station had a hardcopy on hand. It was capable of using a computer, but didn’t like to do so. It didn’t trust them, probably wouldn’t for decades to come, perhaps centuries. Too much experience with the printed word or hand written text to put Its trust into electronic gadgetry.
It was on the hunt, as it had been countless times over the ages. But this was not a hunt to satisfy Its physical hunger. This was a much more deadly and important game.
Knowledge is power, the age old rule: Know your prey. And whether that prey you stalk is a simple rabbit, a wild bull, or the deadliest prey of all: man, made no difference. The more you know, the easier the hunt, the more assured the kill. And this was one kill It was determined to bring in.
And so here it was. It had heard vague rumors when It put out feelers, and more so, It could tell just from the slimy aura that Its prey exuded that he would have a criminal record. Getting Its hands on it was the first step in taking down the play.
Thus the Lone Wolf stood in the empty police station, reading Alistair Steele’s criminal record. It had learned much about his prey quickly, and what It learned only heightened the blood lust for the hunt.
It had been right to trust that Steele would have a criminal record, but this was far worse. Steele was not some petty criminal like any other… Steele was a rapist.
It was an entity that denied the laws of man. It lived outside of the law, off the grid, when necessary It took what It needed, when provoked It fought without hesitation, It readily killed supposedly “lesser” animals to feed itself regardless of any restriction on such actions, and It had no compulsion with taking the life of a man if the situations warranted it. Needless to say, the rules of law meant very little to it. But there was one law that It never allowed to be broken, one crime that It responded to with raw, visceral hatred, with utter loathing for any filthy beast that would consider committing it. That crime was rape. That crime was one that Alistair Steele was definitively guilty of.
What’s more, from what It had learned, Steele was duped into confessing to the crime because he could not stop himself from bragging about it. He was proud of what he’d done, boastful, giddily eager to tell the tell. The Lone Wolf was filled with revulsion deep into the core of his being. It was more than resolved to crush this pathetic prey before It had seen the file, now no force on this Earth could deter It from Its present course. Perhaps It would castrate the sick beast on the way to his eventual destruction.
And destroy Alistair Steele the Lone Wolf would. There was no room for doubt in Its mind. In deed, there was room for little else in its mind. It knew on some vague level that It was scheduled to face Dante “Vagabond” Coles in Its next match, but quite frankly, It didn’t care. Oh, it would still show up for the match, alright. And It fully intended to win. It had much left to prove before It could now that It was whole again, and part of that journey involved showing Its prowess at battle remained. But the Vagabond was little more than an after thought. Steele was the one It was after…
Steele, the mere thought of the name made Its blood boil. It was possessed by the need to take painful, exacting vengeance upon he would try and burn It again. Eyes burning with hatred, it pushed the building rage aside, focusing again on the document in Its hands.
Finished with the details of Steele’s conviction, It had moved on to the psychological profile. Fairly standard, no true insights, as was to be expected from local police. Indications of a possible histrionic personality disorder, a distinct lack of empathy for his fellow man bordering on sociopathy, strong tendencies towards egomania and pyromania…
Pyromania. That term brought back with it the full brunt of Its rage, Its hatred, Its revulsion, and Its fear. Steele had actually tried to burn It alive… again… Somehow, he had known what fire would do to It, and had sought to take advantage of it. By the Gods, he would pay…
As It thought on the vengeance It would level upon the latest prey, It realized that this was a perfect prelude of what was to come. Some day, sooner or later, once It was sure It was whole again, once It knew it would not fail in the task, It would have to hunt down those responsible for Its near destruction. They would become Its prey, and It could not rest until It killed them…
Steele had unwittingly provided it with the perfect first step towards that hunt. This vile beast would serve as testing ground, practice for the final hunt to come. In a perverse sort of way, It was almost glad for the opportunity Steele’s assault had granted It… Almost, but not quite.
As those who’d nearly ended It would in the months or years to come, Steele would pay for his actions in the days and weeks to come. He would pay, and he would pay totally… The Lone Wolf would see to that…
But how best to make him pay? How to take down this prey? So many methods for the kill, so many ways to see Steele suffer, what should be Its course of action?
As It ponder this, it realized that the course of this hunt should be that which would best prove Itself, that which would best prepare It for what was to come, best ready it to do what must be done… There was only one thing It could do, and to do it would be the ultimate act of overcoming Its greatest fear… It would have to face Steele in a…
Its thoughts were interrupted by something on the periphery of its sensory perceptions. It froze momentarily, turning all its senses outward, those shared by man and those not. It strained forth to determine what had drawn It from Its deepest thoughts, and then it caught the disturbance.
Someone was approaching. In the distance, someone drew steadily nearer. It would have to bring this night’s stalking to an end…
It quickly returned the file to its place and closed the cabinet, leaving everything as It had found it. Taking one final sweep of the area to assure nothing had been missed, it silently made Its way out of the station well before Its unwanted company arrived. As It strode confidently away from the station and through the night, It knew what must be done. Bring on the hunt…
Breaking into the station had been easy, pathetically easy. Law Enforcement officers might think of themselves as somewhat of security experts, but the fact of the matter was that their feeble training really didn’t amount to anything when stacked up against millennia of experience from an individual steadfastly determined to avoid unwanted company.
The lock on the filing cabinet had been no more challenging. They might as well have left their “confidential” files printed on a billboard on the highway for all the good their security measures had done against It. After a minimum of searching, It had found what It was looking for, and it now sat reading the file of particular interest.
It was thankful that the station had a hardcopy on hand. It was capable of using a computer, but didn’t like to do so. It didn’t trust them, probably wouldn’t for decades to come, perhaps centuries. Too much experience with the printed word or hand written text to put Its trust into electronic gadgetry.
It was on the hunt, as it had been countless times over the ages. But this was not a hunt to satisfy Its physical hunger. This was a much more deadly and important game.
Knowledge is power, the age old rule: Know your prey. And whether that prey you stalk is a simple rabbit, a wild bull, or the deadliest prey of all: man, made no difference. The more you know, the easier the hunt, the more assured the kill. And this was one kill It was determined to bring in.
And so here it was. It had heard vague rumors when It put out feelers, and more so, It could tell just from the slimy aura that Its prey exuded that he would have a criminal record. Getting Its hands on it was the first step in taking down the play.
Thus the Lone Wolf stood in the empty police station, reading Alistair Steele’s criminal record. It had learned much about his prey quickly, and what It learned only heightened the blood lust for the hunt.
It had been right to trust that Steele would have a criminal record, but this was far worse. Steele was not some petty criminal like any other… Steele was a rapist.
It was an entity that denied the laws of man. It lived outside of the law, off the grid, when necessary It took what It needed, when provoked It fought without hesitation, It readily killed supposedly “lesser” animals to feed itself regardless of any restriction on such actions, and It had no compulsion with taking the life of a man if the situations warranted it. Needless to say, the rules of law meant very little to it. But there was one law that It never allowed to be broken, one crime that It responded to with raw, visceral hatred, with utter loathing for any filthy beast that would consider committing it. That crime was rape. That crime was one that Alistair Steele was definitively guilty of.
What’s more, from what It had learned, Steele was duped into confessing to the crime because he could not stop himself from bragging about it. He was proud of what he’d done, boastful, giddily eager to tell the tell. The Lone Wolf was filled with revulsion deep into the core of his being. It was more than resolved to crush this pathetic prey before It had seen the file, now no force on this Earth could deter It from Its present course. Perhaps It would castrate the sick beast on the way to his eventual destruction.
And destroy Alistair Steele the Lone Wolf would. There was no room for doubt in Its mind. In deed, there was room for little else in its mind. It knew on some vague level that It was scheduled to face Dante “Vagabond” Coles in Its next match, but quite frankly, It didn’t care. Oh, it would still show up for the match, alright. And It fully intended to win. It had much left to prove before It could now that It was whole again, and part of that journey involved showing Its prowess at battle remained. But the Vagabond was little more than an after thought. Steele was the one It was after…
Steele, the mere thought of the name made Its blood boil. It was possessed by the need to take painful, exacting vengeance upon he would try and burn It again. Eyes burning with hatred, it pushed the building rage aside, focusing again on the document in Its hands.
Finished with the details of Steele’s conviction, It had moved on to the psychological profile. Fairly standard, no true insights, as was to be expected from local police. Indications of a possible histrionic personality disorder, a distinct lack of empathy for his fellow man bordering on sociopathy, strong tendencies towards egomania and pyromania…
Pyromania. That term brought back with it the full brunt of Its rage, Its hatred, Its revulsion, and Its fear. Steele had actually tried to burn It alive… again… Somehow, he had known what fire would do to It, and had sought to take advantage of it. By the Gods, he would pay…
As It thought on the vengeance It would level upon the latest prey, It realized that this was a perfect prelude of what was to come. Some day, sooner or later, once It was sure It was whole again, once It knew it would not fail in the task, It would have to hunt down those responsible for Its near destruction. They would become Its prey, and It could not rest until It killed them…
Steele had unwittingly provided it with the perfect first step towards that hunt. This vile beast would serve as testing ground, practice for the final hunt to come. In a perverse sort of way, It was almost glad for the opportunity Steele’s assault had granted It… Almost, but not quite.
As those who’d nearly ended It would in the months or years to come, Steele would pay for his actions in the days and weeks to come. He would pay, and he would pay totally… The Lone Wolf would see to that…
But how best to make him pay? How to take down this prey? So many methods for the kill, so many ways to see Steele suffer, what should be Its course of action?
As It ponder this, it realized that the course of this hunt should be that which would best prove Itself, that which would best prepare It for what was to come, best ready it to do what must be done… There was only one thing It could do, and to do it would be the ultimate act of overcoming Its greatest fear… It would have to face Steele in a…
Its thoughts were interrupted by something on the periphery of its sensory perceptions. It froze momentarily, turning all its senses outward, those shared by man and those not. It strained forth to determine what had drawn It from Its deepest thoughts, and then it caught the disturbance.
Someone was approaching. In the distance, someone drew steadily nearer. It would have to bring this night’s stalking to an end…
It quickly returned the file to its place and closed the cabinet, leaving everything as It had found it. Taking one final sweep of the area to assure nothing had been missed, it silently made Its way out of the station well before Its unwanted company arrived. As It strode confidently away from the station and through the night, It knew what must be done. Bring on the hunt…