Food had become necessary for survival, he knew there were certain things he could consume that would help him heal in a matter of days, he knew that there were many different aspects of taking the energy out of humans, he needed to kill to live, it was the most basic of mentalities but it was all the stranger knew.

He found an easy kill that night, a kid, maybe in his early twenties, full of life, skating in a park after dark. He took no joy in this kill; there was nothing to it except for the aspect of survival. The kid saw him approaching, a silhouette walking objectively towards him; he stopped skating and waited for the approach, headphones still on his ears. "What do you want?" He yelled, the stranger didn't answer. He grabbed the kid by the mouth, covering it with one palm and dragged him into an alleyway where he propped the kid up against the wall, leaned in and apologized for what he was about to do, but it had to be done and broke his neck.

He ate what he could raw, but it started to overturn his stomach after a while. He started a small fire in the alley and cooked small parts at a time, hiding the body in a nearby dumpster. Homeless people wandering around would stumble into the alley and scream out in drunken pleasure 'mmmm...Smells great! Can I get some of that?" and other attempts, but at they approached, every single one got a glimpse of the stranger, and changed their minds on trying to get any food.

He ate until he could not possibly eat any more, both legs and arms had been devoured, the heart and a part of the brain that is said to increase strength.
He had learned this by no means of his own, he had just known certain things for as long as he could ever remember anything in his life. After his meal he decided to rest. Using the remains of the boy's body he slept in the dumpster. It was a surprisingly deep sleep; he slept through most of the day.

When he awoke it was dusk, people were starting their night, looking forward to drinking, partying and socializing. The few that were to come into contact with the stranger did not know at that point that they would never see their homes again; no one could even suspect that this night on the town would be their final destination.

A young couple that had started drinking earlier on in the day had stumbled into the alleyway as the stranger was waking up. They were looking for a secluded spot for a quickie before their night started. They kissed passionately against a wall a few feet from the dumpster. The man pulled down his girlfriends pants and turned her around. The quiet moans as they fucked emanated through the grungy alleyway, their occasional laughter echoed off the old walls, and the stranger, without having to see anything, knew he had his next target.

The apparent situation of having two vulnerable unsuspecting people in a relatively secluded place mustered and uncontrollable urge in the stranger. He crept out of the dumpster and proceeded toward the couple, who were solely concentrated on each other.

"You ready for this you little bitch? You want it in you don't you?" The man said as he grabbed his girlfriend by her hips and began to thrust harder. "I'm gonna cum all over you you little slut." He almost yelled. "You ready for it? Here it comes!" He said as he began to climax. Just as he did the stranger grabbed the man by the throat and collapsed his jugular.

The man began twitching, which did not disappoint the girl. "Oh Charlie, Fuck me harder! You've never felt like this before!" She cried, eyes closed facing the wall, her clenched fists and continuous moan kept her distracted as her boyfriend took his final breath. The stranger pulled the corpse away from the girl and held him up by the throat. "That was amazing Charlie, I've never felt you shake like that. You're mine forev…" She stopped short as she looked back at her lover levitating inches from the ground. She followed the hand holding the back of his neck, and came into contact with gun metal grey eyes that were staring so intently right back into hers.

Before she could scream the stranger had his hand on her face and squeezed. His ring finger had so much pressure it perforated her left eye causing blood and innards to run down the side of her face. She scratched and clawed, ripping pieces of flesh from the stranger's arm, but his grip held, he managed to cover her nose and mouth and pressed her against the wall. Her good eye wild with terror, looking down both sides of the alleyway with false hope that a passerby would stop and miraculously save her from imminent death.

A few minutes pass and he is still pressing her against the wall, she is now covered in blood from she wounds she had inflicted on the omni-powerful arm of the stranger, she still holds onto his arms but has ceased her attack. Her muffled cry sputtered from behind the stranger's hand, mucus, tears and saliva dripped down her face and onto his hand. If there was anything the stranger felt remorseful for it was victims that cried and gave up. This wasn't intended to invoke so many emotions, this was nothing personal, this was just the way it was, the way it always had been and the way it will be forever.

She eventually passed out; he released his grip and watched her hit the ground. He bent over, opened the girl's mouth, reached down her throat and crushed her heart. There were several convulsions and then she was dead, blood streaming from her mouth, nose and eyes. A double kill was enough for a good few hours. The satisfaction of actually getting to feel a beating heart and crushing it between his fingers was the biggest boost the stranger had ever felt. Cutting life off at the source had become his new kick.

By midnight the cravings had come back, but more than ever, the girl's blood was still under his fingernails, he could still smell her fear. He licked his fingers and tasted the blood; it became immediately apparent he needed another kill. In fact, he needed many more kills that night. It wasn't going to be enough just choking someone to death anymore, he needed to feel them die, feel their source of life dissipate while in his hands. He had grown tired of strangling, it was now an insufficient way to fulfill cravings, too often had his hands felt the last breath pass through the larynx, the sound of gasping no longer pleasured the death fetish he possessed.

His next kill had to be horrid, gruesome, he felt the craving to bathe in blood and if anything less than that happened there would be no sense of fulfillment whatsoever. He searched the remainder of the night; the craving had crept up and overwhelmed him. A few times he was even tempted to tear the lungs out of people that were submersed in a sea of people walking down the crowded sidewalks, but he refrained, he knew that it would be almost impossible is evade law enforcement if there was a definite description of him.

So he remained in the shadows, resting in darkened alleyways and abandoned playgrounds, he waited until and isolated person fell into his bearings. He needed isolation for this kill.