It was dark out on the crisp fall evening. The ever-watching moon sat high in the black sky, silently observing the boisterous city of St. Louis. I was walking, staring at the concrete sidewalk, continually passing through my foggy exhale. I couldn't think about anything except walking, watching my feet move, left then right, left then right. I couldn't think about anything when I was like this. I couldn't let too many thoughts pass through my mind, or I wouldn't be able to control myself. It would take over. I couldn't let it take over yet; I wasn't where I needed to be. I had learned to make myself go numb, focusing only on small things like walking or the crisp autumn air whipping past my face. So, I walked, not fast or slow, but steadily, as if it were my only goal in life. Left then right, left then right.
I knew I was getting close to the corner where they had set up shop. They were always standing in front of that building. Day or night, it never mattered. They worked in shifts, harassing innocents on the street, selling their products in the dark alley beside the building, and moving drugs and cash in and out. They had no worries; business was good. No one tried to stop them-not the cops, not the better people of the city, no one. They instilled fear in people because, in their minds, they weren't scared of prison, and they had nothing to lose. They were violent, cruel, and had no issue killing you if they chose. They were the scum of this city. They did whatever they wanted. They were untouchable… until now. Now they had my attention.
A week earlier, a girl had gone missing. She was only 17, blonde, young, and beautiful. She had her whole life ahead of her. She had a family that prayed and begged for her return home. A news bulletin requested that anyone who had seen her or knew anything to help find her come forward. Her pictures were posted everywhere. Her name was Emily Smith, and her information was displayed on flyers that clung to telephone poles and similar structures all across the city. In the picture, she wore an unusually shaped silver cross necklace that twisted around like tree branches to form a crucifix. It was... unique. Their hope was strong… until they found her.
I went to where her body had been discovered, down by the river. It was there that I got her scent. I followed it just up the riverbank, where I lost it almost instantly. It disappeared on the road, so I had to change plans. I went to her last known location to pick up on the things the cops couldn't. I was led to a shadier part of town, to a three-story building full of possibilities; my kind of possibilities. The lowlifes eyed me from across the street. I didn't need to go into the alleyway beside their building to know what had happened there. My senses told me everything. The smells were potent: pain, fear, blood, and another one… the strongest one. It was a smell I grew to know intimately in this new life. It was death. They killed her there.
But what had brought her there? I wasn't sure; maybe a friend, a boyfriend, a rebellious stage took hold, and she wanted to try a few drugs. Maybe she wanted to just break the rules a little. Everyone in St. Louis knew what happened there. A lot of people went there looking for their vice.
When they found her bloated, pale body by the river, her family was destroyed. Her parents, brothers, and friends would never see her again. She was taken from all of them, and no one had answers.
Except for me, I knew exactly what happened to her. I knew who did those things to her. Someone had to stop them, not arrest them, STOP them! Someone had to make sure they could never hurt anyone else again.
I looked across the dark, low-lit street at the thugs who roamed the area. I watched hands exchange bills and baggies. The business was just right on a Friday night, lots of people looking to make a deal. Supplies for a fun weekend, I guess. I wouldn't know. The only thing I lived for was what came next.
The two pedestrians, who had just bought a small bag of drugs, were walking away when one of the dealers turned his attention across the street to my towering, motionless figure.
I saw him turn his attention to me as I stared at him through the reflection of a large glass window across the street. I watched him shift his gaze and stare at my back. I was staring at my own face in the mirror image… wondering how this could have possibly happened to me? How was this my life? I stared into the glass with my blue eyes that reminded me of who I once was. The thing that stared back at me was a horrific version of the person I was now, cold, black eyes boring back into my own gaze with an emotionless stare. This was me now.
The reflection in my periphery moved just enough to snap me out of my internal reflection. It was one of the same guys that I saw the other day, when my senses brought me there during my initial investigation. He recognized me, probably because of my height and the fact that I was wearing the same clothes. I usually wore my black hoodie underneath my heavier brown jacket. The large hood concealed my face pretty well.
I turned around and looked up from my feet. I had stopped going numb to the world around me. I started letting my mind feel everything. I began to let It out.
"The fuck you lookin' at, man?" the street thug spat disrespectfully, waving his hand like a gun.
I was silent as I stood in the shadows of the night. I stared into the creep's eyes from across the two-lane street. I could feel his life force from where I stood. I could see his pulse rise and his veins beating harder underneath his sallow skin. It was drugs, anger, and violence, but not fear, not yet.
"Hey! I said, what the fuck you lookin' at?" He didn't like my silence, "You deaf, mother fucker?" He was confident in his abilities.
Another one walked out of the front door once he heard the commotion. He swung the glass door open so hard it almost shattered against the red bricks that held up the old, crumbling building. I saw a gun in his hand as he joined his friend, no care in the world that any passing pedestrian could see. They were gods in their little stretch of road. This was their territory, and I was not welcome. Yet, none of it mattered, because weapons or not, they wouldn't be able to stop me.
"The fuck do we got here?" he asked the first guy.
"This fool wants to get dropped, just standing there, staring like some bitch."
He started to raise his gun, opening his coat a little. A small silver chain dangled around his neck, and on the chain was a familiar-looking crucifix. It was Emily Smith's, no doubt about it. He took it as a trophy, a trophy for a kill. I already solved her mystery, but this was the final nail in the coffin. Their coffins.
I bounded across the street, feeling my dense muscles contract and expand. My feet pushed against the asphalt so hard, I'm sure if I had time to look back, I would have seen cracks. They had no time to react, I was on them instantly. I slammed my right shoulder into the first guy's chest. His body went limp before his feet left the ground. He flew across the sidewalk and slammed into the outer wall of the crumbling building. The bricks cracked and shed some loose pieces as his bones crunched, and blood splattered against the wall. He crumpled down to the sidewalk, motionless. The only thing still moving was the crimson blood that rolled down the masonry behind his body. He was dead from the sheer force of the impact.
The second guy's heart jumped into overdrive. I could hear his heart pushing the blood through all the arteries in his body, it was fight or flight.
I stood there staring at him. I felt my face already starting to shift. My face was hidden in the hood pretty well, but I think he saw it. The eyes were always the first thing my victims noticed. They turned completely black, showing no signs of color or surrounding white, only solid black spheres that peered through the hood that cloaked my head.
"What the fuck," he yelped, stumbling backward in terror.
I breathed in his nasty stench, analyzing it, comparing it to the trail that I picked up while looking for Emily. I looked down at his blindingly white shoes, and there were tiny reddish-brown spots lightly sprinkled across them. The scents were the same from my sharp memory. It was Emily's blood.
I shot out a hand to his throat and lifted him up before he could even react. He was nothing… like lifting a Pomeranian. I threw him back into the dark alley, the place he thought he was safe; the place he sold so many drugs, beaten countless people, and killed at least one that I was sure of… Emily Smith, poor girl. He slid down the coarse concrete, grinding the skin off his hands as he tried to haphazardly catch his fall. He dropped his gun once he hit the ground, but quickly retrieved it once they both stopped sliding. He wielded the weapon desperately in his raw, bloodied hand.
Before he could get back to his feet, I melded into the shadows of the alley. He spun around, expecting to see me. He saw no one. He looked around the dark alley, furiously pointing his gun in every direction. His hand was shaking. Blood oozed from his raw palms, the flesh was frayed and hanging from his exposed knuckles.
"WHAT THE FUCK!… WHERE ARE YOU?" his voice shook.
I could feel IT taking over inside and turning me. My need surfaced, and everything else faded. The transformation continued; my mouth burned as my teeth violently shifted and extended. My fingers spilled a few drops of blood as the dark talons pushed their way through my flesh. My entire body began morphing, becoming larger and taller than usual, as my dense muscles expanded. There's always so much pressure that it felt like my body would rip itself to pieces as I became… the monster.
I couldn't wait anymore. I sprang out of the shadows in one fluid movement, pinning my victim against the brick wall by his throat. He dropped the gun and clawed at my arm, trying to pry it loose from his windpipe. It was no use. He couldn't fight against my bestial strength. He stared into my dark eyes, knowing what was probably about to happen.
"Your eyes…" was the first thing he noticed, and then, seeing my changing form in front of him, "WHAT ARE YOU?" he screeched as he fought.
I ripped the cross from his neck with my free hand. My talons clawed open the side of his neck. He screamed. Blood flowed from his wound and down the arm that was pinning him against the wall. I analyzed the necklace, confirming it was her cross. He realized what I knew, that I was there for Emily's killer. I was there for him.
"Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill her. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, man. Please," he begged. "I'm sorry..." he whimpered.
He was used to being in control. They all thought they had the power. Not the cops, nor anyone else, would stop them. Not anymore. I was there, and I was what the innocents of the city needed. I was the only one who could stop cold-blooded killers like these guys. Most people didn't want to stoop to their level. They tried to be civilized and take care of things with the laws they created. They tried to use the system, hoping it would protect them. It wouldn't, not from people like them. However, I could stoop to their level. I could make them go away. I could go further than they ever would.
It was too late for Emily, but I was what people like her needed. I was what these degenerates were actually scared of; the unknown, the myths, the legends, the scary campfire stories. I was the monster in the dark… and I was here.
I lunged in and ripped my razor-sharp teeth into the meat of his neck and shoulder. The urges inside of me were in full control. I ripped and tore; I felt his warm blood go down my throat as I attacked. It covered my face and stained my clothes. Blood was everywhere, it saturated everything around us. He struggled underneath my grip, but I just pushed harder against his neck. One of his free hands kept hitting me in the head, over and over. I felt nothing and continued tearing the life out of him. I used my free, clawed hand and tore into his shoulder, ripping in a downward swipe, severing his arm. His screams were loud for a second, then they muffled out, along with his pulse.
His body went limp, and I stepped back. He dropped into the pooling blood alongside his severed arm. He was dead. Emily Smith's killer was gone, never to hurt anyone again. I kept her silver crucifix safe in my coat pocket, safe from these killers.
I wasn't done yet. I dropped my coat and clothes in the dark, in a sheltered corner for retrieval, and I let the rest of the transformation continue. The beast was out and entirely in control.
When fully drunk on the power of the beast… a voice echoed in the depths of my mind. It was so quiet… so far away that I almost missed it sometimes. But every once in a while, when I righted a wrong so tragic… I felt like I heard it speaking up from the darkness within. It would say only one word…
"KILL!"
I could hear the commotion, more footsteps coming out of the front door, around the corner of the alley. The rest of the drug-dealing street thugs were coming to see who was screaming in fear. I looked up the side of the building in the dark alley. I could see an open window on the third floor. I pushed all of the strength out of my legs and jumped up the side of the building. I collided with the old bricks, clawing for handholds as I scaled the rest of the way up the side of the building and then crashed through the frame of the third-floor window. Glass shattered and bricks tumbled to the floor in a chaotic crash of masonry and rage.
The room was dark, but my black eyes could see everything. Drugs were littered across tables, booze stunk up the air, and guns were scattered about the room. This was their warehouse, their store, their headquarters. All of their products and cash were there, at least the majority of it.
I saw multiple bottles of liquor sitting around the room. I picked up a glass bottle with my large, monstrous hand and read the back. It was 90 proof... strong enough to burn. I threw the bottle across the room, and it shattered on a round table in the corner. I busted all of the alcohol I could find, drenching the room. There was a lighter next to a pack of cigarettes on a coffee table by the door. I lit some trash on fire and tossed it in a puddle of booze. The room caught fire quicker than I expected. It spread like wildfire. I crouched out of the room and into the hallway, busting the seams of the door frame, collapsing the integrity of the wall.
The guys who ran outside were coming back up the stairs. They must have heard me smashing bottles and come to investigate. They probably hadn't seen the work I had done to their friend in the alley yet, but they had to have seen their other buddy at the front of the building, head caved in against the bricks.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?" one guy choked out, looking at the terrifying sight before him.
I was large inside the building. I ducked as I wedged through the door into the hall. My face and body had morphed into something bigger and… stranger than they had ever seen. My hands and long black talons were slick with a crimson sheen of blood.
They raised their guns and fired rounds at me as they began fleeing backward. Most of the bullets missed; their shots were too wild. A few hit me in the chest, but it didn't matter. I had let It fully take over; I wasn't myself. I was more monster than human.
Before they could get far down the hallway, I rushed forward and slashed a dark-haired man across his face. He was forcefully thrown to the ground and wasn't moving. He was dead. The other guy got a few steps further, but not before I could come behind him and sink my teeth into his neck. I heard someone coming from behind me. I used his body as a projectile and launched him back down the hallway at the person trying to come at me from behind. Their bodies smacked into each other; I could hear snapping bones when they collided. One was dead, the other maimed and unconscious.
I made my way through the rest of the disgusting building, pouring out anything flammable. I saw a gas stove in a room on the first floor, beneath the fire I set on the third. I ripped it from its place and hurled it across the room. I grabbed what was left of the gas pipe coming out of the floor and ripped it up from the baseboards. The metal sheared and snapped, letting the gas flow out freely. I made my way to the exit. As soon as enough gas filled the building and met the fire, everything would burn.
I stepped outside and grabbed the body of the first one to die. I opened the front door and threw the corpse inside. The fire would cleanse the evidence. The police would potentially still know the men were killed before the fire was set, but they couldn't know who killed them. So, I let the fire burn. I hoped it would be enough. I wasn't exactly sure if any DNA or fingerprints would come up as a match for me now that I was… whatever I was. I still didn't understand everything, but just in case, I always covered my tracks. I couldn't have them looking for me; after all, I was already dead.
I picked up my clothes from the shadowy alley, ignoring the other mangled corpse, and then ran until I made it into the safety of the shadows. I figured the fire would reach that body when it was at its peak temperature. Hopefully enough to mask the true cause of death and mark him as a casualty of flames and smoke inhalation… and a severed arm. I tried not to think too much about that guy, as I had already committed to leaving.
I crossed the street and ran through a small, wooded area just two streets away, distancing myself from the fire. The cops and emergency services would be there soon with the fire being as big as it had already gotten, so I made myself scarce. The fire would probably have to burn itself out since it was so big, so they would be occupied for a while.
I slowed my steps and began walking. I could feel the urges being pushed further back into my mind. This always happened after I killed. I was back in control for a little while, and I didn't have to make myself numb to the world around me. It wouldn't last long, usually a day or two tops, but it would at least be some kind of relief. Then I would have to actively fight against my own thoughts.
I willed my rational mind to take back over. The monster that I let out began to fade. The dark, bone-like talons receded into each digit. My body compacted itself back to my usual size. My mouth burned again as my teeth moved back into their human form. Finally, the blackness that overtook my eyes dispersed, letting my blue eyes return to my human face.
I walked slowly through the sparse trees; blood still oozed from my mouth. Then, I heard an explosion. The gas had finally built up enough and reached the fire. The building sent up a plume of smoke and heat as the gas ignited. I could see it through the trees and over the structures that already separated me from the blaze. It was almost midnight, so I was sure the fire would burn long into the early morning. A few minutes later, I could hear the sirens in the distance, inching closer and closer. Several different emergency response personnel were making their way to the scene.
I turned and started walking away from the fiery graveyard I had created. I felt good, strong, and in control. I was done for the night and was ready to get out of my blood-soaked clothes. I came out of the trees to a manhole cover on the street. I lifted it out of the pavement and crawled into the storm drain. I had to get off the road for a while since I looked like I had just taken a swim in red paint.
I was using the sewer systems and storm drains as my own personal trails through the city. They were useful after a kill, when I was covered in blood. I pulled the metal disk back over the hole and then dropped down into the darkness. I slowly walked in the pitch-black passageways, yet I could see everything. I walked back home in the dark solitude of the subterranean tunnels. I found peace in the silence after the kills.