Stalking After Midnight - Body Count 95

Went out for a hunt to clear my head last night. With the impending arraignment for my assault charge I was overcome with the urge to kill. Having to leave this matter in Candace's hands has left me with an uncomfortable impotence. A visit to the Loop seemed like an ideal place to get back in the game. So many things have happened lately that I've been derelict in my duties. It was high past time for a return. When I arrived the area was in full swing. The students are back full time and their infectious presence permeates every square inch of the Loop. Some times seeing so many cattle in front of me makes me regret the clandestine nature of my calling. To be able to massacre these beasts en masse would be a dream. But alas I must always restrain myself and remember the adage about Rome not being built in a day. I walked around the streets for about an hour when I came upon a scene outside of a tavern that piqued my curiosity. A petite blond girl was having a dramatic, almost hysterical argument with a large, drunken oaf. A few passersby made lewd comments of the scene, but none of the cattle seemed to be that interested in the proceedings, making it difficult for me to remain inconspicuous. The argument ended with the girl screaming obscenities and the oaf aggressively pushing the girl to the ground. Some of the street traffic came to the girls aid and a few went to confront the oaf. It simply shoved it's way past the opposition and drunkenly staggered down the street away from the commotion. I had originally set my sights on the blond girl, but the scene reminded me too much of my recent dealings. I shadowed the oaf to one of the nearby parking garages. It vacantly stared around at the various cars and finally settled on one. While it clumsily fished a key from its pocket I moved in for the kill. The first thrust of my knife plunged deep into its back, puncturing a lung. It tried to swing around and face me only to find another blade rushing towards its throat. Catching squarely on the jugular, profuse amounts of blood poured from the wound. The oaf quickly fell to the cement floor. With a little difficulty I was able to remove the blade from its back. Looking down at the oafs limp, dying body a wave of blood lust rushed over me. I began to stab viciously and repeatedly into the dying beast. When I was finally sated I stood over the bloody mass of flesh, breathing heavy and overcome with decadent pride in my work.