Fear seeped from the Humans aura, a steady trickle that had so far remained relatively constant. The Thing tasted it, breathing it into every pore of it’s hideous, deformed body. It liked the taste, but still wasn’t sure it was Right. There was something off about it, something that the Thing could not quite place. An undercurrent of bitterness that existed on the very edge of the sweet, complex notes that made up the bleed-off of emotions. Feeding had been becoming increasingly difficult of late, with ever longer periods between hibernations as the Thing slowly matured over the decades that passed. It wasn’t too far off now, just a few more cycles before it reached full maturity. Then it wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows, then it could leave this crippled form and achieve it’s true potential – to take on a Human host, to carry on it’s immortal existence in one of those beautiful meat-suits, to take part in all the depravities afforded by the Human condition, released from the requirement to sleep for so long after a period of Feasting. The last few cycles had seen so much change – not like before, in the Early Time. Now, every time it awoke from it’s slumber it was like awakening into a completely different world. The wilderness of old had been almost entirely replaced by monstrous jungles of concrete, metal and glass – and the Humans! There were so many of them, they were everywhere, stacked upon each other in a literal sense, living in fortified towers of shining surfaces and lights so bright that they caused the Thing much pain if it entered into their influence.
At first the Thing had been excited and for a time the abundance of prey had sent the Thing into a feeding frenzy. It gorged itself fat on their essence and flesh, grew complacent. Then one day after a particularly long sleep it had awakened into one of those concrete jungles. When it had tried to feed on the first Human it found, the unthinkable had happened. The Human fought back, as they are sometimes able to do, but this time it HURT the Thing and the prey had got away. The Thing was forced to retreat back to it’s lair, to nurse the wounds made by the weapon that called upon thunder and fire to rend it’s very flesh. That cycle had been the first time that the Thing had tasted it’s own fear, a bitter acrid taste that caused it to convulse in pain as it found itself in a near-fatal feedback loop as it uncontrollably drank in it’s own fear and through it it’s very essence. It was only through a supreme force of will that the Thing was able to break out of this act of auto-cannibalism. As it lay there, weak, vulnerable and on the verge of actual death it feared that this cycle would be it’s last, that it would never fulfil the ultimate goal. If it wasn’t for the vagabond that stumbled into the Thing’s lair looking for shelter then it could very well have been the end, but the resultant feast had brought the Thing back from the brink and from then on it had grown cunning and changed the parameters of the Hunt. Now the Thing stalked it’s prey, taking it’s time, maintaining a total awareness of it’s surroundings at all times and only striking when it was sure of the Humans capabilities, when the prey was isolated from the chance of help.
This was such a time. The Thing had stalked it’s prey for many hours, keeping to the shadows, learning the hunting ground. It could feel the time approaching, the time that it would strike. Yes, that time was near. In fact, that time was now.
As the prey took one last turn further into the concrete maze the Thing could sense the isolation. The prey had led the Thing far away from all the other countless souls whose concentration shone out bright to it’s senses, a banquet of forbidden fruit almost tempting enough to risk it’s end. As the Thing slid around the corner, it’s presence an inky blackness, a living shadow, it saw the prey standing still in the middle of the alley with it’s back turned. The Thing took another taste, inhaling the sweet, sweet aroma of fear and took another step. Suddenly it sensed something was wrong – the prey was not responding like all the other countless souls it had fed upon. The fear was not increasing. These Humans always had an unconscious response to it’s presence, they somehow sensed when the Thing was near and the resultant increase in fear and dread was exquisite. This Human however did not – in fact, the Thing realised that the opposite was happening, the fear had gone, snuffed out like the light of a candle flame in a sudden breeze. Only a few paces away now, the Thing stopped, an unwelcome feeling of uncertainty freezing it in place. What was happening? It had never encountered a thing such as this before. The sudden urge to flee shot through it’s muscles and flesh like a bolt of lightening and it let out a low, guttural growl, breaking any existing illusion of stealth. Before it could turn away to escape the taste of fear came back, this time strong and almost overwhelming. But… It tasted different, still enticing but… Intentional, it was almost as if the Human was able to control the bleed-off of emotions, as if the Human had led the Thing here. Realisation dawned on the Thing. Right here in this alleyway, the tables had been turned. It was no longer the hunter. The Human was the hunter and it was the prey.
A slow, sharp scraping sound came from where the Human stood and long, wicked looking blades slid out of the sleeves of it’s long trench coat. The blades were black, as dark as the blood that ran through the veins of the creature itself, what little light afforded by the moon overhead glinting off the silver runes inscribed into their lethal length.
Slowly, the Human turned, arms held slightly out from it’s sides, the wicked blades held in a casual grip that spoke of a confidence and proficiency that the Thing had never before encountered in prey. The Human carefully and deliberately raised it’s head, piercing eyes locking with the Things own. The fear had once again gone, it’s departure leaving an unfeeling void that further unnerved the Thing. The corner of the Humans mouth turned up in a wicked grin that almost equalled the promised lethality of the blades which it held.
“It’s time,” the Human said, the calmness in it’s voice sending a tremor down the twisted spine of the Thing. Raising the blades straight out from it’s sides, the Human leapt.
Shout From The Void 