Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2009
- Location
- here
There was only one thought running through his mind as he bid the M.E. fairwell and made his way out of the coroner's office: Lycanthropy. He really shouldn't be this excited and he tried to tell himself to be more solemn about it - especially after taking a look at the most recent victim - but he couldn't help it. This shit was in his fucking blood and he was pumped! A Goddamn werewolf! A lot of hunters bragged about their kills, particularly monsters that were difficult to take down and werewolves were one of those at the top of that list. They made for great stories at least, and this would be Creasy's first one.
There was no denying what it was gonna be once he got around to tracking it. Masquerading as a police detective to gain access to the morgue, Creasy had his original suspicions confirmed when he came face to face with the corpse. A woman in her late 30's laid naked on the stainless steel slab that had been pulled out for his viewing, her skin just as white as the sheet that had been used to cover her. Her body and face were marred with deep scratches and claw marks, her chest torn open in ugly jagged lines, now cleaned and sutured up after the autopsy. Details that had been left out of the paper were candidly provided by the bemused medical examiner who seemed beside himself, looking for someone to confide in about the bizarre case. Creasy kept the conversation and theories vague, allowing himself to seem just as disturbed as the doctor was despite the certainty and excitement that coursed through him.
Looked like an animal attack? Check. Heart missing? Check. Just add in the little detail about the deaths happening during the full moon and it really became undeniable. At least, for someone who was willing to look for alternative explanations. After a few years of this life and working in such close proximity to the law, he was no longer surprised by the incompetence and stupidity exhibited by the police - particularly in the face of such blatantly supernatural circumstances in a lot of cases. So, it was pretty much expected that the local PD in the city of Vestal were still scratching their heads about this one and Creasy was all too happy to step in and take over. As it was, he had 4 days left to hunt down the culprit and waste them before he'd have to wait for the next full moon lunar cycle. The deadline and the unfamiliar creature added to the rush he felt even as his focus sharpened and he felt himself slip into the "hunter mode."
Exiting the building, Creasy squinted in the mid-morning sun before slipping on a pair of coffee-brown sunglasses, hiding his hard, hazel eyes from view. Close cropped hair and combed back bangs shimmered like dark copper as he turned his head in both directions to survey the street. At this time of day and so near the middle of the city, the streets were populated with frequent passerby - innocents and civilians who had no clue about the reality he faced and fought every day. The job never paid and he rarely got a 'thank you' but if he were truly honest about it, it was the kill that drove him to do what he did. He lived for those moments of taking down evil, stealing the life away from creatures that wouldn't hesitate to kill him right back if given the slightest chance. It was a kind of twisted mentality to have but if it saved lives in the process then what was the harm? It was a lonely gig since it didn't exactly encourage a 'settling down' lifestyle or making attachments but the reality was that there were more important things and he was willing to make that sacrifice for the greater good. And every hunter had their own way of doing things, a lot of them harder to work with than others - like those damned Winchesters; don't even get him started on that family of freaks - so being alone wasn't so bad, if it let him do things his way.
Ever the hunter and always battle ready, his shoulders and slender hips held an alert tension as he casually sauntered to the car parked at the curb. It was an automatic and deep-seated response to being out in the open, looking completely at ease and yet gracefully threatening, even in the out of character suit and tie he wore. Back in the car, he turned to the next thing on his mental checklist, turning the key in the ignition and bringing the Sedan to life. Now that he knew what he was after it was time to do a little research on the victims - of which, there'd been 3 so far - hoping to narrow down who the predator might be. And he also had to do a little research on what he was hunting, not trusting his memories of the tales he'd heard to get through this. Although there was one thing he knew for certain already and that was how to kill them: silver bullets. He took pride in the fact that he already had a couple of those lying around, since there was no shortage of creatures that were vulnerable to the precious metal.
There was no denying what it was gonna be once he got around to tracking it. Masquerading as a police detective to gain access to the morgue, Creasy had his original suspicions confirmed when he came face to face with the corpse. A woman in her late 30's laid naked on the stainless steel slab that had been pulled out for his viewing, her skin just as white as the sheet that had been used to cover her. Her body and face were marred with deep scratches and claw marks, her chest torn open in ugly jagged lines, now cleaned and sutured up after the autopsy. Details that had been left out of the paper were candidly provided by the bemused medical examiner who seemed beside himself, looking for someone to confide in about the bizarre case. Creasy kept the conversation and theories vague, allowing himself to seem just as disturbed as the doctor was despite the certainty and excitement that coursed through him.
Looked like an animal attack? Check. Heart missing? Check. Just add in the little detail about the deaths happening during the full moon and it really became undeniable. At least, for someone who was willing to look for alternative explanations. After a few years of this life and working in such close proximity to the law, he was no longer surprised by the incompetence and stupidity exhibited by the police - particularly in the face of such blatantly supernatural circumstances in a lot of cases. So, it was pretty much expected that the local PD in the city of Vestal were still scratching their heads about this one and Creasy was all too happy to step in and take over. As it was, he had 4 days left to hunt down the culprit and waste them before he'd have to wait for the next full moon lunar cycle. The deadline and the unfamiliar creature added to the rush he felt even as his focus sharpened and he felt himself slip into the "hunter mode."
Exiting the building, Creasy squinted in the mid-morning sun before slipping on a pair of coffee-brown sunglasses, hiding his hard, hazel eyes from view. Close cropped hair and combed back bangs shimmered like dark copper as he turned his head in both directions to survey the street. At this time of day and so near the middle of the city, the streets were populated with frequent passerby - innocents and civilians who had no clue about the reality he faced and fought every day. The job never paid and he rarely got a 'thank you' but if he were truly honest about it, it was the kill that drove him to do what he did. He lived for those moments of taking down evil, stealing the life away from creatures that wouldn't hesitate to kill him right back if given the slightest chance. It was a kind of twisted mentality to have but if it saved lives in the process then what was the harm? It was a lonely gig since it didn't exactly encourage a 'settling down' lifestyle or making attachments but the reality was that there were more important things and he was willing to make that sacrifice for the greater good. And every hunter had their own way of doing things, a lot of them harder to work with than others - like those damned Winchesters; don't even get him started on that family of freaks - so being alone wasn't so bad, if it let him do things his way.
Ever the hunter and always battle ready, his shoulders and slender hips held an alert tension as he casually sauntered to the car parked at the curb. It was an automatic and deep-seated response to being out in the open, looking completely at ease and yet gracefully threatening, even in the out of character suit and tie he wore. Back in the car, he turned to the next thing on his mental checklist, turning the key in the ignition and bringing the Sedan to life. Now that he knew what he was after it was time to do a little research on the victims - of which, there'd been 3 so far - hoping to narrow down who the predator might be. And he also had to do a little research on what he was hunting, not trusting his memories of the tales he'd heard to get through this. Although there was one thing he knew for certain already and that was how to kill them: silver bullets. He took pride in the fact that he already had a couple of those lying around, since there was no shortage of creatures that were vulnerable to the precious metal.