For the first time in I don’t know how long, I wake up with a smile on my face. Half in joy of the previous day’s exploits and half for the joy of those I know are still to come today. Some corporate punks have been snatching up ghouls, and tonight is the night we put an end to it.
We head over to the head ghoul. I think they say his name is Henry, but I’m not here to protect them, it just so happens that what I want to do will inadvertently do just that. I sit outside waiting for several days. The anticipation is starting to kill me. I’m about ready to give up on this shit. The itch is returning to my fists, and I’m considering just finding some petty thief to do away with when two vans finally come rolling up to the building.
I watch as eight men in full tactical uniforms make their way out of the vans and place themselves into formations at the front door. I’m getting goosebumps as I look on. These are the bastards we’ve been waiting for, and they have no idea what’s coming to them. I slowly get out of the trailer. I’m not to quiet about it, but fortunately they don’t think much of me; that won’t last long.
I wait for them to blast open the door, and the second they move into the fog I charge up behind them and ram the back four sending them in all directions. Jason and the satyr are waiting on the inside of the room. We flank them in the smoke of the explosion, and they don’t have a clue what to do as they’re brutality slaughtered in the entrance. I hear a call over their frequency: “Kill that minotaur,” the man screams. I can’t help but smile at their cries as we destroy them all.
The last of them makes a beeline for the vans as they start up and try to drive away. I charge after him, grabbing him in mid sprint, and break his spine over the corner of one of the vans. The satyr finishes off the two in the first van and I rush over to the second, ripping off the door and using it as a weapon to knock the passenger unconscious. I prepare to take out the second but it appears the fox has beaten me to it as she puts a bullet through the back of his head.
All twelve of them have been taken out. We gather up the bodies, making quite the spectacle of it, and take some pictures for our friend Dymond. I resist the urge to join in on the pictures, like a hunter showing off the big buck he just bagged. She takes the story and the pictures behind it and promises to make this story common public knowledge. This corporation is not going to be happy, but our hope is that they won’t last long enough for us to feel the backlash of it.
I have another wonderful night’s rest after it all. I feel like an alcholic finally getting drunk again after years of sobriety. It’s an amazing feeling, yet one that I hope to never feel again. I’m back to my old ways, and I don’t feel like going back. This will never be new to me again, it will be constant.