There was a man that was one of the most renowned psychics in his field; he was a spirit hunter. His job was to go from haunting to haunting, prove or deny its authenticity, and then, if real, drain the spirit of its wrath, and send it to where it is supposed to be. His travels were varied, ranging from town to town within a state he's visiting, to international travels. The assignment that he was returning from had been one of his most harrowing.
He found himself deep in the forests of Japan, investigating the reports of a spirit that was attacking travelers that were venturing from village to village. It was believed to be the residue of a ceremony to honor the dead: a ceremony that had gone horribly wrong. As the festivities were opening, several villagers from the west inquired about the particular dead that they were appeasing. His brothers from the east looked at him solemnly, and told him that it was supposedly the body of a Yeti that had been slain by the errant arrow of one of his comrades, but there had been something wrong with the creature. It was overly large, almost 36 Hands tall, with large talons, longer fur, huge, yellow eyes that gleamed in the sun and what appeared to be the remains of horns.
The man from the west looked at the men in horror, and asked them if what they said was true. Told that it was, he fled the place screaming at the top of his lungs. The word he was calling meant nothing to the easterners, but his comrades from the west followed his, also screaming in terror. The ceremony went wrong soon after. A strange call was heard by the remaining villagers, and many left, fearing that what they had taken for terror, was really a call to an attack. Those that remained to fight, were never heard from again.
However, it would have been better if they had never been seen again, also. Their remains were found the next day, by a brave young man who wanted to see why none of the other men had returned. There was a terror filled scream several hours later, and he was seen running into the village later on. When he was found under the bed of his beloved by the wives of several of the missing, he was found uttering a single word over and over, in a piteous voice: "Akuma".
The women of the village went to the area the ceremony was to be held, and were met by carnage.
There was blood staining the ground a deep black, and made much of the area a bog. There was also blood spatters on almost every tree in the range of 200 feet. The men's bodies were torn to shreds, and it appeared to have been done by a huge sword. The cuts were clean, but deep, and savage. At first, the villagers thought that it may have been done by a crazed villager, but then one of the others found tracks...They lead away from the area, where trees were seen to have gashes in them at a height that no man could reach...36 hands up. The tracks them selves were an anomaly. They were human-ish in their structure, but the toes were seemingly ended in ragged talons, and as they went, they seemed to fade, not because they went so far, but because the culprit seemed to get lighter as it walked away.
The women sent the last strong man to the city in their only vehicle to get the authorities. When he got there, he was almost laughed out of the police station. To placate the man, they sent an officer back with him to see what the trouble really was. Not an hour after he should've arrived, there was a call in to the stations radio, "Chief, you need to get out here...Bring as many men as we can spare, and bring some really big guns..." The radio attendant was about to radio the officer to get a grip, and calm down, but everyone head the raw edge of his voice: it was all that he could do not to scream in fear.
The Chief, along with nearly 200 men, most armed with either shotguns, or grenade launchers(several men, both) drove to the scene as fast as possible. Upon their arrival, they found the first officer in a local garment. When asked why his simple, albeit embarrassing, answer was that first he threw up, then after he looked about some more, he "washed his trousers". When the rest of the force went to the scene-proper, their reactions varied from outright terror, to cold indifference. Those that felt nothing had a good reason though: they were so overloaded, that their emotional responses were shut down, to preserve their minds. The Chief knew little what was going on, so he went to interview several of the inhabitants of the west village upon hearing the accounts of those in the east village; mostly, his goal was to see what they had been screaming as they fled.
Most of them refused to say what the word meant, for fear of bringing a curse upon their village too. The headman of the village told the officer that he would write it down, but only under the condition that the officer didn't open the note and read its contents until he was out of the village. He agreed, if only to appease the man and get the information that he needed. As he was leaving the village, he saw numerous people give him a warding sign, as if he was an evil spirit. He then realized that he held in his hand, what could be the key to danger...
When he was out of the village and on his way back to the crime scene, he opened the paper to reveal one word: WENDIGO. At first, the man didn't understand what the word meant, until he realized that it was in English, not Japanese. When he made the connection, he had to stop and balance himself against a tree, because he knew what it meant. As a boy, he had been an exchange student to Canada. While there, he learned a great deal of mythology, and knew that there was no creature more fearsome than the Wendigo. It was a monestrous demon created by one of great evil who is physically transformed to reflect the hunger in his heart.
The original human is one that ate the flesh of another man to survive, instead of facing his death with bravery. When this creature didn't kill, his sightings were said to bring horrible pestilence upon the one who saw it. If he sank his claws into the soil, it would be tainted with his evil aura and never allow another thing to live there. If the ground was sacred, however, his touch was worse. If the grounds were used for burial, the later entombed bodies were said to rise up, hungering for the flesh of the living, and if one was caught and allowed to speak, it would speak of only the evils you had done in your life; if you were pure of heart, he would corrupt your soul, and turn you against those you loved, if only to laugh at your soul when he was returned to the Underworld.. No matter what the Sacred reasons that surrounded the grounds, it would turn evil, and reverse the role is had before it's corruption.
If the physical body of a Wendigo was killed(usually only under the absence of a moon), it's essence would remain, and nightly kill anyone who dwelled upon the lands. There were only a few ways to remove the evil where it's essence rooted; most were so unpleasant that the areas were, more often than not, abandoned, and marked off from travel.
Uncontrollable shakes continued to wrack the body of the Chief, as all the lore flooded into his mind. The thing that truly terrified the man, was that the descriptions that were always given to the demons was the same one that one of the villagers had given him as the best that they were holding the ceremony for, because it had been killed by an errant arrow. He knew what it could mean for the villagers if they were right, especially if it had dug its claws into the soil as it had died.
He got back to the village as night fall was nearing, and told his men, under no uncertain terms, that if they weren't back into the city before night fall, all of them would be busted. At first, no one moved, because to hear such a comment coming from their Chief was unheard of. When he said it again, adding the phrase,"Listen here, damn it..."they moved. On the road, he got on the open channel within the vehicles, and told them everything he knew. After he spilled it all, one of his men said only a name: Drake Masters.
There was silence on the radio, as the entire force thought about the varied stories that they had head about the men. One remembered reading an article in which he had helped prove that Dragons had once walked on, and flown over(and breathed fire upon) the earth; another man thought of a tabloid he'd read that said his works were only able to be done because he was the Devil incarnate; another had heard just the opposite. Even the Chief had heard stories about the man, but he was the only one that had ever met the truth behind the legends.
All in all, the Chief wouldn't have believed he was who he was had he not seen the tattoos on his wrists: On the left was the Kanji ten-meaning heaven. On the right was the Kanji-chi meaning earth. Later on after a few drinks, Drake finished convincing the Chief of his identity when he showed him the kanji on his chest: Hito- meaning personality. Drake said that it was a reference to part of the Bushido- the Samurai code of ethics, which the Chief had verified; over all, though, Drake was only about 6' tall, and weighed in at 225 lbs. He looked like your typical American skater kid, except for his muscular frame, and the scars.
He had a set of two on either side of his face, the set on the left set went from the orbital bone and back into his side burns; the set on the right also started at the orbital bone but followed the curve of his face to end at his jaw line. The odd thing about them, was the fact that both sets were about two centimeters apart. When the Chief asked him about the scars, Drake rubbed the right ones thoughtfully.
"Well, Chief, it was about two years ago...I was researching a case about a slasher that had been found dead in an alley behind a local cemetery. I wasn't usually called in for murder cases, so I knew that there had to be something more to it. However, when I got to the scene, it looked like the place had been cleaned up, and everyone had scrammed already. I then began to notice movement...it was then that I realized that I was having a postcognitive vision; I was seeing what had lead to the slashers death.
"As everything commenced, I saw that one of the graves was pulsing with a powerful aura. It wasn't evil per-say, but it was definitely after the slasher. I watched the scene closely, and found out that the spirit was one of his former victims. She possessed the body of a large man in the area, and used his hand to kill the slasher. However, it seemed that the slasher had other ideas..."
Drake stopped and took a long pull on his beer. Gathering his thoughts again, he continued his story.
"When I emerged from the vision, I had been standing at the scene telling everything as it happened. The man that had killed the slasher was later released due to my findings. I dare say that it was one of my more interesting cases."
The Chief looked at Drake. "I will admit that it is an amazing story, but it didn't explain the scars."
Drake looked at the man, and then began to blush like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "You're right, that was the point, huh?" Laughing, he re-continued his story. "I was told by witnesses later on, that the slasher had been seen in the area causing mayhem. Knowing that he was dead, I decided to say in the area to observe.
"After a good few hours of distanced watching, I ventured closer to see if there was really anything amiss, or if it was locals that had gotten too much to drink. When I got to the area that he'd been killed, I instantly knew that there was something horribly wrong. There was an energy in the air that was very dangerous, trying to lash out at anyone that could feel it. The moment that I came into its range, it was after me.
"With no real way to protect myself, since I hadn't been prepared for an attack, I would have to do with the limited spiritual techniques that I had at the time. I took the blows to the left side of my face as I tripped over a fallen trash can. Using a barrier technique, I got my footing and began trying to find out what I was up against. As I focused, I could see the energy of the slasher. It seemed that the priest that gave him the last rights forgot to leave a rosary by the man's head as he did it, to help calm his soul, and send it to the other side.
"I knew how to send his soul over, but I didn't have the supplies I needed. Seeing that the cemetery was sitting right next to the local church, I hoped that there was at least an alter boy still on the grounds. Luck was with me, and a light came on after only yelling twice. Cutting through the cemetery, he was at the fence beside me within a minute. I told him what I needed and he ran to fetch them, because he could see that I was up against something, he just refused to believe what.
"When he got back with everything, I told him to begin reading the prayers for the Last Rights, sprinkling Holy Water after every four words. This was the spiritual help that I needed to help send him over. I took the second rosary from his pocket, and held it in one hand as I thrust it into the slashers spirit. As, the gates opened, he took two more final swipes with his razor, giving me the scars here on the right."
Drake finished his beer, and stood to leave. The Chief asked him how, if he needed him, was he to contact him. Drake looked at him, grinned ear to ear, and said, "Don't call me, I'll call you..."
That was three years ago...almost to the day, the Chief realized. He laughed to himself, as he thought, "Well, Drake, if there was any other time that I need you, it would be now..." Then with the thought having barely left his head, the Chief screeched at his cell ringing. "Bullshit..." He muttered. When he answered he got the recording, "Will you accept a collect call from..." The Chief was in shock when the voice said, "I'll be there in three days." He said that he'd accept the charges, but there was no one on the other end. He was left to his thoughts, for the rest of the ride to the Building.