Lestraude sat at his desk scratching his head as he tried to puzzle out the fact that several minor gangs had been found tied up in various places with some members claiming that a monstrous black creature had attacked them.
However no one could confirm the creatures identity, sometimes it was a gentle thing that saved little old ladies from being mugged with a growl and a menacing look, other times it was a bloodthirsty monster that almost ripped its victims to pieces.
There were the string of murderers, rapists, and drug dealers that had been found with varying degrees of injuries, none of which had gotten a clear look at their assailant other than it was a black, giant monster of a thing.
"A shift form would be the most likely, considering how it just vanishes." Lestraude started thinking out loud, "But who would have such a form? According to Shift Profiles 101 a person's secondary form is an inner reflection of their true personality/demeanor. So am I looking for someone with a violent history and homicidal tendency's? Or a person with a split personality?"
He glanced down at the paper sitting half on, half off his desk reading the headline for close to the fortieth time; Beast Of London, Savior or Terror? Below was an account of several eyewitnesses from various of the 'beast' sightings.
"I don't get it, what is it?" Lestraude sat tapping his pencil on the paper as he read out loud, "I saw the thing as it ran out of the warehouse, it was big and black, and looked like a wolf on steroids."
A knock at his office door interrupted his reading, "Come in." Lestraude sighed heavily as he ran a weary hand over his face closing his eyes briefly. When he reopened his eyes Lestraude could do nothing but stare at the supposedly dead man who stood in his doorway.
John stalked down an empty alley, his muzzle dripping crimson, his fur matted and bloodied, it didn't matter that he had the tip of a knife sticking in his right hip. He was hunting tonight. His prey, Colonel Sebastian Moran, a former army sharpshooter and now suspected in the illegal running of several shady nightclubs that sold restricted goods to its clientele. John had ben watching the Colonel for several days now, determining when would be the best time to strike, and he had decided that tonight was the night.
John had gotten ahold of the Colonel's scent and was tracking him through London from place to place, watching and waiting for just the right moment to leap. Now he was wandering through the warehouse district as he followed the Colonel to one of his nightclubs. It was a 'legal' club from the outside viewer's perspective, but John had discovered through the multiple dealers, murderers, and con men he had taken down over the course of the past few weeks that the club was actually a front for the Colonel's less than savory deals.
The club was just barely outside of what was considered the warehouse district, in fact it was back to back with one of the smaller storage facilities in the area. John's current goal was to make his into the establishment via the backdoor.
Silently he padded around the building, the backdoor was unguarded, the rusty iron locks were clearly not bolted, an easy in for him. Shifting to his human form John slipped into the club's back hall, he took a moment to examine his surroundings. Cracked brown walls were covered in old advertisements and various doodles from inebriated patrons. To his left there was a janitorial closet and an obviously occupied restroom. To his right a set of rickety wooden stairs, according to his information the Colonel's base was down there, along with several armed guards.
Even though John was in his human form his senses were still much keener than usual, he could hear the heavy breathing of the man in the bathroom over the pounding music, he could smell the alcoholic haze that permeated the club as it mingled and jarred with sweat from the many dancing patrons.
There was no time to lose, the Colonel was downstairs no doubt taking care of 'business' that had nothing to do with the club above. John descended cautiously, each step perfectly placed, every breath quietly measured to minimize sound. As he neared the bottom John became the wolf once more, and the guard at the bottom knew nothing but sudden darkness.
"So you've come back from the dead to try to kill me after all, too bad my men caught you before you even had a chance." Colonel Moran smirked at the bloody man in front of him. "Let me do you a favor, and put you out of your misery since you have no one alive for you to go back to."