"Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law; and this mandate, down out of the depths of time, he obeyed."
--Jack London
There exist two worlds. A world were dark truths are hidden. Were people go about there day to day routines unaware of things that go around them. By choice to protect there peace of mind. Or by a veil draped over there eyes by those in power.
Then there was the world that Rico lived in. A world were he hunted and killed to his hearts delight. Police, mutants, humans. It made no difference. He killed hundreds over the course of a year. Maybe more. Meat was meat. He could never remember. But the world kept on moving. Never stopping to bring justice or consequence.
Seemingly, the world turned a blind eye to it. And that was why death itself walked by his side. Collecting the dead as they fell in his wake. So long as there was none to stand up or take action. The killing would never stop.
As had become his every day routine when night fell he shifted. Went feral in both body and mind. Driven by one need alone, the need to feed. One would think a creature looking like a wyvern would be noticed in a city. But he stayed in the shadows in both the air and in the city that was his hunting ground.
Rico had carved out a favorite hunting ground near the port. There was always someone out and about. Just the other night he had killed a devoured two cops in the middle of a drug bust. The dashcam recording the grisly scene.The problem with establishing a favorite hunting ground was repeat visits. A pattern for others to follow and lay a trap if they so felt inclined.
A figure came out of the darkness. The sound of its bat like wings almost none existent. Flaring the wings Rico came to land. His hind legs touching the ground silently. Putting the wing joints onto the ground the dragon looking creature walked as a bat would. Sniffing at the air for game to hunt. He smelled fresh blood. And like any predator, he was drawn to it. It was coming from a warehouse. Its massive sliding doors wide open and inviting.
Had the intelligent part of his mind been in control he would have had second thoughts of going in there. But he was no more then a animal at this time. So he approached. Pigs blood had been thrown on the floor seemingly by a bucket. Rico smelled at the fresh blood and lapped at it with his rough tongue that was designed to lick bones clean of flesh.
With no fear he went through the entrance. Inside was pitch black save for a pig hanging on a meat hook suspended by a chain. With a mouth dripping with saliva Rico approached the freshly butchered animal and started to feed. Biting the flesh and twisting as he pulled away. Masked figures reminiscent of black ops forces pulled the sliding door shut and flood lights clicked on turning the world bright.
Rico snarled and put up a wing. The membrane shielding his eyes from the blinding light. The figures were everywhere. Even standing on catwalks higher up. There tactical weapons all aimed. Hissing the creature lowered the wing. It was dead quiet, the silence before the storm. Gunfire erupted all in sync. The rounds ripping through Ricos body in some places and ricocheting off in others.
As the last round was fired from the barrage the shell casings could be heard hitting the ground. Rico was hurt and in pain. But his body was already at work repairing the damage that was done. Raising his head and pointing the snout to the ceiling he let out a roar that escalated more to a scream. The air distorting near his mouth like the air in the desert.
All the lights shattered along with the windows along the walls of the upper catwalk. The warehouse was blanketed in darkness. One cannot describe the horrors that happened to those souls in that place. The gunfire and screams lasted a good half an hour before there was only silence. The warehouse sliding door opened a crack and one of the masked attackers came stumbling out covered in crimson and holding the stump of his missing left arm.
Police were already on the scene. The flashing lights of the squad cars blanketing the entire area in color.
"Its....Its a demon" He said to the first officer he saw and fell to his knees. Reaching out with his good arm the masked man fell forward dead. There then came loud banging against the ware house sliding door. Dents slowing growing bigger.
"Holy mother of god....." A officer said as he kept his sidearm focused on the door that was about to break open. Little by little the metal bent at the impacts until it finally gave and exploded outwards, metal shards flying in all directions. Covered in the blood of the mysterious masked attackers Rico came out running. His wings folded to his side like a bird.
Ignoring the gunfire ripping into his body the wyvern jumped onto a squad car, the roof caving in under the draft horse sized creature. Having satisfied his hunger Ricos mind urged him to run. He reached the dock edge and leapt headfirst into the water with clean beautiful agility. At home in the water as much as the air his leather like bat wings served well to move underwater combined with his undulating body and tail.
Some time later he came crawling out of the east river right onto a road and collapsed. Between the private contractors in the warehouse and the police Rico's body had suffered some pretty severe damage. Sleep was the only thing he wanted. Even as a car came screeching to a stop a few feet away with its high beams on barely did little to stir him outside of raising his long neck and hissing at the vehicle.
Laying his head and neck down on the road he took this moment of piece to digest his meal and let the flesh knit back.
