Lone Wolf


Whenever someone mentioned the name Vesca Howell, he couldn't help picturing an old, tired and lonely grey wolf with ice blue eyes. Each time he saw him walk by the offices, he could associate his actions with such a wolf's behavior, too…

He generally growled at people aggressively, as if they would jump out to hurt him, or mock and shun him; he was intimidating, not to be stomped by any, but it was obvious that, on the inside, he didn't feel at peace and he wasn't as sure of himself. He'd been alone for such a long time, trust was hard to establish…

Only times he behaved even remotely enthusiastic, it reminded him of the wolf once more, in a state of severe starvation and faced by a lonely deer. It was a scary sight, whenever another clue on his personal case jumped up at them; he became obsessed, and rather vicious. Nobody that knew him wanted to cross his way, those days…

And then, all clues had finally led to the elusive Chinese man that went by the name of "Count D," the effeminate creature Vesca Howell had given twenty sad years of his life to find. Suddenly, it became hard to distinguish his reasons to do so: actual wish to bring a dangerous mind down and behind the bars, or lust and desire over a mysterious being…

His gun had been pointed at the Chinese man since they'd stomped into the laboratory. The look on those violet eyes, though, didn't show shock or fright or anything that had any logic; they were taunting, those dark lips smirking coldly. Then, they all understood the pair had met before, that they were personal nemesis of one another…

Vesca Howell turned around, gun fixed on one of his FBI companions' forehead. The vicious grey wolf with the ice blue eyes was back again, snarling savagely at the gathering. He wasn't alone anymore, though; a gracious black wolf with violet eyes was right behind him, the grin showing long, sharp and perfectly white fangs…

One lonely wolf is rarely a menace. Two wolves are already a pack, and are highly dangerous, especially when mated like that. Their howl freezes the warm blood running through their prey's veins, blood that they'll later relish on themselves…

At least, he thought, the lone wolf had finally found what he was looking for.

None survived.


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