The inexorable appetite of the flesh…

It made him chase a scent across a globe and then some... He was still dreaming of the day when he would find what he was after, and finally experience completion and eventually salvation… redemption from a faith more cruel and unforgiving than the worse torment he had ever imagined; and he had imagined a lot.

Now the time had come when he was back on the chase again… He had to have flesh… and as always there was only one kind that made him move and tick. But his tick was far worse than the shake of the earthquake. The fear and the devastation that followed the victim of the quake equally and surpassingly terrifying with the thrill and adrenaline rush of experiencing it…

He pushed the drifting thoughts aside. There was a task at hand, and a pleasant one… Sitting in the centre of the metropolis, hidden away in a shady corner of a poor excuse of nutritional juices parlour – albeit truly and extensively equipped with any kind one could desire, ranging from pure extract of natural and legal resources to artificial concepts and constructs of the most illicit and perverse nature – he injected his glands in a most vulgar and ancient way with his purchase… A strong, potent chemical substance, reconstructed from an extinct species of the not-so-near past; he was sure it was a primate lizard, and he even once delved in discovering its true story, but as always his attention span and dedication only took him so far… no thrill there, but plenty in consuming, abusing it. The rush came hard, as hard as it was anticipated. He had mastered years ago not to show any expression, but he could never remember why. He was conscious though that those who knew could infer his status just by looking at his eyes… It was time. He could feel the fragments of time passing by him, gone, never to return; wasted. That infuriated him more – it did so even without the use of his much wanted and to an extend, now needed substance. He stood up forcefully, and the only reason that the stool did not go flying and crashing to a corner was the four screws that held it fast to the ground. The screws reminded him of the purpose of his visit in this place. He looked out of the window of the shop… people came and went. It was hunting time.

It took him another good hour to find something that held his look long enough to reach the precious threshold he had set… He went after her, in that short and annoying manner that he had. Fear… he knew from the past that they tasted better if they were afraid first. He figured out or imagined that it was the chemicals released from the natural reaction…

She tried to escape, unknowingly first, but as the day progressed and his presence became more and more apparent to her, more consciously and constructively… That only made him more interested. Finally, it started. She travelled from the center of the metropolis to one end and then to the other, going through all kinds of areas – almost as if trying to get him after another scent; she almost made it once or twice.

By the time she decided to walk into a retro entertainment shop, his excitement was such, that he did not pay attention where and what it was…

-o-

She figured out that the only way she could avoid today’s torment would be if she could lure someone in her stead instead. She hated it when she did that… but it was her only way out… the things that she had been through lately where by far above her pleasure line. She did enjoy a lot of pain and abuse – physical and mental – but this was fast surpassing any reasonable tolerances.

She noticed him as soon as he stood up, the glazed eyes and the penetrating look, as if constantly on the look out. He looked like a predator, and a dangerous one at it. She had seen his ilk times and times again and even had some in her wildest days. He would have to do, if only she could get him there…