I pull the throttle on the ‘cycle back a bit more as I drive along the damn Highway, cursing the Americans and their desire to place a goddamn speed limit on all these roads. Of course, it’s not really them I’m annoyed at – more the Council and their little games. Christ, politics and the Masquerade. What the hell are these people thinking of doing? And then to turn around and use it as a leverage to accuse me of not doing my damn job properly by letting it happen. Oh, I am definitely not in a good mood right now.

It’s a long drive to the small town. A small town in the middle of nowhere that has no meaning to anyone beyond those who live there. No meaning except for the fact that there have been a number of unexplained attacks within the last 2 weeks. Attacks that have involved a creature snatching victims from their houses and leaving their bodies torn up and drained dry. Attacks where the creature displayed supernatural strength and speed, where a few reports have even spoken of fangs and fang marks upon the discovered bodies. Attacks that have all happened at night. Events that would perhaps mark out a vampire lost to his Beast. Perhaps – there are a large number of things out there that don’t come under the heading of Kindred – but it certainly would seem to be supernatural activity of one kind or another. All of which really means that I should have been informed of this a long time ago. When the first reports started hitting the news. Of course I wasn’t. And with my time spent upon the task of trying to stay informed of the going on’s in the city and trying to learn the full extent of my predecessors influence and plans as well as readying myself for the Sabbat attack AND trying to ensure we don’t have a spy within the ranks I missed it. So did the men that I’ve been supplied too – people who are meant to be going through the daily newspapers of the surrounding areas that fall within our jurisdiction. It doesn’t matter anymore – I’m out here to deal with it now. It shouldn’t take too long; I’m slightly rusty but I can still track as well as the next Outlander. And I’ve got a few advantages that they don’t have.

I pull over a short distance from the last crime scene and slowly walk the bike into some bushes. I hide it well before shrugging out of my trenchcoat and placing it away. In a few more moments I’m down to my bare minimum of weapons and I shut my eyes, letting myself call upon the Blood. I feel the change come over me slowly as I will the Blood through my system, feel it change me as I stand there alone in the darkness. The pull of the darkness around me, of the natural wilderness that wraps about myself throbs within my Blood and I let it take form. I feel hands turn into paws, I feel the clothing I wear become no more than air itself, to be absorbed into my body and the world around me. I feel fur sprout from my body, the hair about my body thickening with the change that comes over me. My nose elongates, the canines in my mouth elongate and extend into full fangs. My senses sharpen even further in this form – already keen vampiric senses sharpen into something more. Something animalistic and bestial.

I can smell the fumes from the car engines a distance away, the movement of wheels upon gravel as a car passes me by from the road that I just left. The smell of it all – yes, the smell is perhaps the one sense that expands the most. My own scent- a familiar scent of cigars and gunpowder hangs in the air here along with the earlier passing of a squirrel. For a moment my head cocks to the side, gauging the age of the trail left behind before I bring myself under control. In this form the Beast is even closer to the surface than normal – not that it has far to go with me being Gangrel. I give y head a quick shake, chasing away the tempting smell from my nostrils before I turn towards the business at hand.

On soft paws I pad away from the bike, heading for the farmhouse. A small building soon looms ahead of me, a number of yellow pieces of tape in the forefront telling me that this is the crime scene I wish for. I take my time, moving in an ever closing circle to the house as I pad along, searching for the scent I am hoping to find. It’s 2 days already since the attack was reported. From the tracks that I find the usual entourage of police and ambulances were here.

I concentrate for a moment, bringing forth the smells into clearer detail before I continue my movements – they’re so mixed up that it’s hard to spot what I need. The sickly clean smell of an ambulance is definitely still hanging in the air; the sterilised unnatural smell holding sharp for my senses. Of course even for a wolf it would be hard to note all this. As I said – I have a few advantages. One of which is the ability to extend my senses far above that of any wolf or vampire possible. It’s a trick I learnt from Sandy. I snort slightly at the smell of donuts and gunpowder (must be a policeman) before shifting onwards, continuing to pad in closer. I note the yellow tape coming closer now but I ignore it, searching for what I need.

I find it soon afterwards but I continue my circuit, moving faster now. I complete my circle twice now, nearly at the edges of the yellow tape by the time I’m done. I can smell the blood now – Blood and blood. I shake my head slightly, moving away from the traces of the smell still left there and begin to lope gently in the direction of the scent I located. Or perhaps it would be best to say lack of scent. You see there’s a slight problem with being undead. You don’t sweat, you don’t shed layers of skin and dead cells or hair anymore. The entire regenerative, living, breathing bit is out of the question. We aren’t so much living as being held in stasis. Put another way – humans stink big time compared to us. No more hormones, endorphins or whatever the hell else you have to call them. The scents that we hold are the one’s that we pick up – car exhaust, cigarettes, mousse, perfume and cologne. If you know what to look for and if you have the nose for it you can track one of us down easily. It also helps that whoever this is isn’t the best woodsguide in the world. Once we enter the woods that run through this stretch of forests I begin to pick out the signs of his passing without even paying much attention. A snapped twig here, a minor footprint there. Enough for me to track him.

This is why I came. Pierre’s good in the city but out here, in the forest and the wilds I am the undisputed master of that group. I know my way around here better than any of them, I know what to look for and I know how to move through this area without making a noise. I’m a ghost, a predator and the poor Kindred that decided to forget about the First Tradition is going to end up having a very bad day. I pick up speed absently as I note the time of the night. I see no reason to be particularly careful about the way I move – I somehow doubt he’s a native of this area. And if he is, well, it’ll just make this Hunt all the more interesting. I find a log where his scent holds thicker, the smell of blood seeming to hold over it before moving off again down to the left. I glance inside and nod to myself, noting how the log is hollowed out and devoid of any major considerations such as holes. A small burrowing in to the ground seems to indicate where he tossed the dirt over himself and over the log to help make sure he didn’t burn up during the day. I flick my tail absently as I move onwards, continuing my search. One night down, one to go.

I growl slightly as I trace him through the forests, jumping over a log easily and landing softly being loping onwards, searching for his trail. He moves in a straight line, not bothering too greatly with trying to hide his tracks. I’m half wondering how the police failed to pick up on his trail. To me it’s bright as daylight. Of course I squelch that thought almost as fast as it comes – I’m not half that dumb to miss out vanity’s ugly head rearing it’s head. Even if it’s in my own mind. Still... how DID they miss it. The good thing is he doesn’t seem to be looking for further sustenance tonight. Bad thing is that means I’m not sure what he was doing last night. I keep a bit more alert because of this, trying to work out what he was doing for an entire night that included traipsing through half the forest one way and the other way back from Sunday.

No more time for thoughts or little dances, I come across the next place where he stuck himself for the night. I poke my head downwards, sniffing at the freshly dug up earth and nod to myself. Very freshly -–guess he's a late sleeper. Maybe only a coupe of hours old. That’s good, it means I don’t have to go far now. I move forwards, loping onwards to track this one down. It’s nice to be out and doing something instead of thinking all the time. I caution myself on that, knowing how easy it is to fall into the simple actions of the Hunt. All the more easy for one of my clan, with the blood and the Beast flowing so close to the surface all the time. Then again, I’ve always been called civilised – at least for my family.

A flash of a memory comes to me of a Gather that I went to in the past. The tall tales and the taller bonfire. I still remember it – its’ one of the few times I’ve ever had to fight another Gangrel in an Ordeal. I didn’t want to – I knew already that I was better than he was. Truth be told, I don’t think there are many out there who can match me – even among the Elders. Most fights are to first blood or to whoever is able to establish dominance – unless of course you’re foolish enough to challenge another who has beaten you before. Yet, in this instance the battle would go on. The other would not stand down, would not allow me to call it over. For one of the few times in my history I had to play to fight with nearly all my abilities. I guess I could have made it faster, finished it easier if I had used my claws. Yet, something stopped me. It was a good fight, he was fast and hard. Damn he was hard. Just kept on coming no matter how I hit him. A long time ago, a long battle that was drawn out. The images come to me, not the way a movie does but in quick flashes of movement and stillness. A claw springing to my face, a simple side-step and then a sweep with a leg. The blow of his elbow to my face, a throw by me. All of it coming to me in flashes that are too quick to consider and too quick not to. Instinct and training combining in that moment to win a fight that I should never have fought. It’s strange, before I became a Gangrel I rarely was involved in fights. Not for small things (or is that small?) such as prestige. Yet often I am challenged. The civilised Gangrel – the one who uses his guns instead of his claws. And again and again I have to fight them, Neonate, Ancilla even an Elder or two. Thank god I’ve not had to fight too many of them, most of them are fast and smart. They’ve seen a lot and they’ve fought a lot. Luckily so have I. It’s weird how we’ve changed, the way the Embrace has created new challenges and harder battles to fight.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is my lack of anonymity. I was always the ghost, the shade. A shadow in the darkness, a figure that you heard of if you were lucky but never saw. I appeared and I disappeared, I did what had to be done and then I was gone and few knew who I ever was. Now I’m Coke of Clan Gangrel, a Sheriff of Gotham and known within and without my clan as one uprising and tough individual. I even have Status within the halls of Elysium – Status that is garnered through my strength and their fear of me. I’m sure they’d love to see me dead but they need me and they wouldn’t really want to try it and fail. No longer a shade, no longer part of the darkness and the shadows. Forced to fight fights that sometimes seem idiotic and childish. I was a clean operator, in and out, the objective, the fight over before the other knew what hit them. That was the only way to do it, not style, not showy but in it’s effect. Classic, simple and effective. Now I play to pomp and fear, I dance a thin line between trying to be scarier than hell itself and trying to make sure they’re not too scared of me to actually do something about it. I’m no longer a shadow, I’m a leader now and a part of me hates that.

I almost miss the damn trail, so caught up in my musings. I pause, padding back a few steps to catch the scent once more before moving down wind. That’s when I hear the first scream, one that emnates further to the left of where I’m headed. I pause, listening for it once again and am soon rewarded. “My baby!!!”

It looks like he’s struck again. I hope I’m not too late as I move forwards slowly, listening. She’s not that far away – at a guess only another 400 or 500 meters. Good lungs on that woman - being able to cut through the foliage like she is able to. Her screaming isn’t the only thing that catches my attention however, another does. Breaking foliage, branches snapping into place and just under all of it is the stamp of running feet. Fast, repetitive movements that I track slowly. I pause, waiting as I work out where he is and the direction he’s going. Dumb and fast, he’s headed in a straight line.

That’s all the impetus I need. I take off, heading to cut him off as I dart forwards through the foliage quickly. Almost absently I note the lay of the land, the passing trees. I keep silent and stealthy for now, if I can’t be a shadow in my “normal” life at the very least I will be when I hunt. It’s not long before I catch up with him, the screams of the woman who seems to have more courage than sense slowly being lost. I let my yellow eyes rove over his body, watch the way he’s carrying the thing with him. And I note the soft, pitiful cries of the child that he has kidnapped. I wonder why the child isn’t dead yet but I don’t smell any fresh blood so it’s unharmed for now. He; I wonder whether something so lost to the Beast really should be called by terminology like he or she but somehow I don’t want to really consider it as an option just yet, isn’t wearing very much at all. A pair of jeans that seem to have been shredded by the branches and trees, torn apart as he crouches or moves without care.

Bare chest his body still holding a bit of a tan from his mortal days. His back seems somewhat different, strange and then I realise what it is – whip marks. The little I can catch of his face and that I can make out through the snarl that holds itself across it I place as white. That’s pretty much all I can actually tell, very little more to it that I can add. He’s not Gangrel at the very least – I don’t see any of the tell tale animal features that would be there.

The child complicates things. Normally this would be over by now – hamstring and throat. Hit him from behind whilst he keeps moving in a straight line and whilst he’s falling come in again hard and fast to tear out his throat. Quick and efficient and I’d be gone before he even hit the ground. With the child things’ get a little trickier – the bundle in his hands is too small, I’m thinking new-born. If I miss the catch the kid’s going to be hurt pretty badly especially since uglies momentum is going to land him on that child. Can’t risk that.

I spot the change in lighting before I hit it, I doubt he does. In a moment instinct takes over and I’m speeding pass him, in the clearing that let’s the light in and turning around to wait for him. It takes him only a few moments to catch up with me, coming to a halt in front of me. We look at one another, his baby blue eyes staring into my yellow one’s. In that moment of hesitation, as he tries to work out what the hell he’s going to do and what I am I blur through the air.

Muscles bunch and unfurl as I spring, my mouth opening and shutting upon the wrap of cloth that holds the baby within. I land easily, springing to the side even as he reacts. Too slow – I didn’t realise he’d be that fast. The blow pushes me off balance for a moment before I spring aside, using my greater legs to get away. The kid I place aside with a quick confirming look to ensure that the child is not badly hurt. It’s screaming once more in that annoying fashion that little children have when they realise they’re in danger. Or when they just want to.

I spin back to the creature who’s already coming for me. First I was another predator – a threat. Now I just stole his dinner, I’m quite certain I’m not on his Christmas card list. Not that he’ll make it to Christmas. Or the next morning to tell the truth. He’s fast and he’s strong but he’s not strong enough and he’s definitely not good enough.

It’s simplest thing in the world to step aside, letting the blow skim off the top of my shoulder. I’m ready for the impact this time – the little that there is. It glances off the top of my shoulder to the ground, leaving his throat open as he stoops down to hit me. I use the opening to finish this, ducking in quickly and ripping upwards.

He’s fast alright and lucky – I catch the side of his right collar bone, ripping that out as well as a large chunk of his flesh but it’s enough time for him to get out of the way and stumble backwards bleeding. The smell of Blood in the air flickers against my senses, the taste of it in my mouth as I spit out the rest of his flesh. He comes in again with his left hand, swinging it madly in rage. He’s in the midst of a Frenzy – or perhaps he’s never left one. It doesn’t matter, he’s not thinking just lashing out. That leaves him open and all his advantages are for nothing – his left hand attacks, his speed, his strength. Nothing. As he soon finds out.

I stop trying for the fast kill and I play it safe now, moving aside and letting the blow pass me by completely. I curl inwards, letting the air whistle pass me before I flicker forwards to the back of him, biting down hard on the exposed ankle. I rip that out before bouncing backwards – not having done any real damage. And then I wait, moving backwards as I dodge him. I have his attention now, the baby forgotten. I’ve stopped him, I’ve hurt him and now he wants his revenge. This is too easy.

A step, a slight crouch to let the swing move pass me and then another step back. A hop to give me more space as he raises his foot and comes down on it. Comes down on it and realises that there is nothing hold the foot on anymore – nothing to hold his balance. He topples forwards, his throat up in the air as he flings his hands outwards automatically to break his fall.

Just like that, it’s over. With his momentum one way, his reactions all perfectly ordinary and normal and reflexive there’s little he can do to stop me. I rip out his throat and then I’m gone, a black blur that pads over to check on the baby. I can hear distantly the mother still running and screaming for her child though she seems to have lost the trail. Sometimes I wonder about these kine....

I turn back to the body once more, watching the body quickly decomposing. I nod to myself, noting the rate before turning once more to the baby and nuzzling it with my nose. It squeals before letting out a cry – unfortunately not loud enough. I pad backwards, drawing a deep breath and let out a long, low howl before pausing to listen. Over the sounds of the childs crying I hear the woman begin crying out for her baby once more, not wondering near me still. There’s a moment when I just want to roll my eyes and give up on her but I let out another howl, waiting to see if she gets the idea.

She does – on the third try. I can hear her moving to me at last – at least in my rough direction. The child will be fine and the body is nearly gone by now. I pad over, letting my tail wag over the crumbling dust to spread it around a bit before I pad away. By the time any authorities get here it’ll be done with. Time to go.