He gazed in ore at his masterpiece, a comforting setting for his girls to take in. In the centre of the room stood a large wooden cabinet, holding six shelves and an array of items. The cellar room appeared divided into two sections, the cabinet running length-ways and separating the room into two halves. The right side was where the chair sat, bolted to the ground to stop a young girl’s tantrum from tipping it over. The camera sat on a tri-pod several feet in front of the chair, perfect positioning enabling him to film his victim and his work. Behind the recording aid was a large map, a yellow and red pin stuck from two locations, both holding a number one, in black pen, upon the head. The left side was empty apart from a tall wooden coat rack. It stood alone in the far corner of the room. The knee length black coat was hung by a metal hanger and hooked over one of the arms that protruded from the thick pole. At the base sat a large pair of black work boots, the type worn on a construction site, the steel caps helping to absorb any stamping of little girl’s shoes. Following the rack to the top he laid his eyes upon the mask, his favourite item of clothing. Once donned, he was transformed into the thing of nightmares. Into the beast that crept in the depths of a dark night. He remembered the power that surged through his veins, the power that the mask gave, and the start of his becoming.
The clanging of metal objects rang in his ears as the bag was lifted from a shelf and placed on a small metal wheeled trolley. He pulled the zip back slowly, the contents displaying themselves to his eager eyes. One by one he removed the tools and placed them down carefully upon the shiny surface, the low clinking sound filled the quiet room as the metal to metal contact was made. The scalpel glistened like a majestic weapon, the highly polished surface reflecting the light above. He ran a finger across each tool, feeling its power. His finger stopped at the last instrument, his most fondly. Powerless to his urge to play with it he lifted the self-made weapon carefully from the cart, twisting it slowly to cast the light upon it. The glove was a hard-wearing suede material. He had added a thick plastic plate to the top section, stopping where his knuckles sat. Glued to the plate was a piece of animal fur he had flayed from an old hunt, the fur was a greying colour, the colour of a wolf. His hand gently entered the glove, his fingers spreading into their homes. Pulling it tight he then secured it to his hand with the buckle, another extra he had added when making. The glove felt heavy, he had been sure to use the lightest materials possible so that his hand would not feel weighed down when needing to attack. Attached to the tip of each finger was a razor blade. One end wedged into a rectangular chunk of plastic to hold it in place and secured to the bottom of the finger with a small strap stitched tight. The other end of the razor glimmered as it remained free, waiting to rip into the flesh of his next victim. He moved over to the coat stand and reached for the mask. Carefully sliding it onto his head he began to feel the transformation……his face………his hand. He was becoming the monster he yearned to be. The howl echoed and bounced off the walls of his studio. This was the place of his becoming.
Chapter Four
The room was silent. The onlookers made an effort to quieten their breathing as they sat in anticipation. The sound of seats shuffling seemed louder in the silence of the briefing room, the Wolf had moved into view of the camera. He was the star of his own movie. Doctor Lime increased the volume with the remote device, the whimpering pleas of the young girl sending shivers through the audience’s skin. Some had failed to notice that the Wolf had disappeared out of view as their eyes were fixed on the fearful expression of the ten year old. The quick flash blinded the camera lens for a second, the focus re-adjusting its self again. The Wolf had taken the first picture. He moved in a relaxed manor to the cabinet at the left of the screen and placed the bulky Polaroid camera down on a shelf. He moved toward the girl and leaned into her ear.
The girl began moving violently, attempting to break free of her binds. The Wolf’s mask was close to her face, the pointed nose touching her skin. The girl continued to thrash wildly, the chair remained still as her body moved in fits of spasms. Nathan noticed several members of the audience placing their ands close to their eyes, waiting to block a violent image that they were expecting. The Wolf had moved out of view for the second time, collecting the Polaroid camera on the way. There was another flash……another second of pure white light…..another photograph taken. The killer remained out of view for several seconds, mild sounds had been picked up by the camera’s microphone but they were un-clear. The girl’s whimpers and groans from behind her gagged mouth drowned all other sounds.
The booming of an acoustic guitar vibrated through the briefing room and William Lime grabbed for the remote, quickly reducing the volume. The speakers crackled until the volume was low enough. Nathan felt his heart beating violently from inside his chest and he imagined everyone else felt the same way. The howl followed closely behind the acoustic intro. The song was being played on a stereo out of view from the lens.
The Wolf had entered from behind the girl, his chosen song for a dramatic entrance. She jumped as he reached a gloved hand over her face and cut the gag free from her mouth. Her screams were just heard over the music and the Wolf began circling her bound body. He had stopped after the third lap, his body blocking the view of the girl. He stood motionless.
The gloved hand collided with her face and a stream of blood ejected to the right of the killers body. Dark red dots scattered to the walls and floor. The movie was paused as the girl’s painful screams over-powered the lyrics of the song.
William Lime moved with speed toward the light switch as if the beast from the film they had just watched was lurking in the dark corners of the briefing room. Eyes were startled by the sudden illumination.
‘Right, I don’t think we need to see anymore’ he stated, clearing his throat beforehand. He waddled back to the front of the class, pushing his glasses from the tip of his nose.
‘I think it’s clear to say that this killer is a psychopath’ he stated.
‘Say again’ Nathan pushed himself off the wall with his shoulders.
‘Sorry?’ Lime stuttered, confused by the sudden question.
‘I said say that again’.
‘I think it’s clear, by what we just watched, that this monster is a psychopath’ the sentence containing slight hesitation between words.
Nathan moved toward the canvas that displayed the frozen image of the Wolf at work.
‘Why is this person a Psychopath Doc?’ his finger resting upon the killers back
Lime shuffled his feet, the uneasy feeling of conflict between himself and Nathan on show to the curious eyes of the class.
‘Look at the footage Mr Cawley. Did you not see what we all witnessed?’
‘I did, and I didn’t see a Psychopath Doc’
‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were also a Criminal Psychologist!’ the words once again slurred into Nathan’s face.
‘Oh, don’t apologise Doc. I didn’t realise that
‘Don’t try to insult or undermine me Doc, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you and I’m a hell of a lot better at it too. What I didn’t see in that footage was a Psychopath………what I saw was a very dedicated killer with an exceptional attention to detail who also plans to kill again and again…..you know why I know this?’ the question aimed toward the class.
The blank faces told Nathan he needed to give an example, a small kick up the backside or shove in the right direction. He collected the small remote control and began rewinding the footage. The class watched as the killer performed his ritual backwards with speed. Nathan played the movie as the first photograph was taken by the Wolf, he then paused the screen.
‘Ok, what can we see……look hard’
Silence answered him.
‘Right, what I want from you guys are answers, they may be wrong but I don’t give a shit…….I would like
‘He’s organised’ the answer coming from Jack’s mouth.
‘Yes’ Nathan’s finger aimed towards Jack, his face still starring into the rows of confused faces.
‘Look at the picture. He has an organised work space. We can see shelving with objects placed upon it in a tidy manner. We can see a small trolley type object with items placed upon it neatly. The room is tidy with no obstructions to slow his movement……………..the killer is organised and tidy………he has planned this murder for
