Eugene drove along the endless stretch of highway, oblivious of the monotony of travel, until an urge to kill awakened him from his slumberous state. Five months of inactivity had left him with a vague sense of fogginess, of digression from his true purpose. He was hesitant to precisely place what he was experiencing, but was relieved by the wonted and easily identifiable impulse to murder.
No matter how strong the need to kill pressed, however, the unnamed feeling pressed as well. It inflamed him beyond explanation to reflect upon sensations that stirred within him beyond his yearning for bloodshed. Possessing emotion was a useless attribute unique to humans; he deemed pondering emotions more futile than humans themselves, as well as being an activity overindulged in. Nevertheless, for the purpose of identification, Eugene considered the feeling that threatened to ruin the realization of his hateful reverie.
As he did so, he reached a shocking conclusion. The sensation he was experiencing was self-doubt. Designed free of the burden of emotion, he resisted the revelation at first, refused to concede to such a pedestrian sentiment. After all, a superior being like him did not feel anything profoundly beyond hate, least of all insecurity. In the interest of preserving the perfection of his single-emotion capacity he decided that insecurity threatened to hinder his potential performance and warranted immediate examination. He scrutinized the events before his five-month hiatus and immediately identified the culprit of his uncertainty: Gabriel.
Gabriel James, the ever-present thorn in his side, was the reason he doubted himself. Gabriel had surprised him with his girlfriend, Melissa, who had unexpectedly made violent use of a kitchen knife, and her shotgun-wielding father. Both of them had joined forces with his nemesis and coordinated an attack. Neither Gabriel nor the pair of humans was capable of defeating him on their own. They had needed to arm themselves and unite to even pose a challenge. They had gotten lucky.
Eugene allowed a bitter chuckle to escape him, found the pathetic trio’s victory unimpressive, laughable. Though their uninspiring conquest was just that, it had succeeded in putting him out of commission for an unacceptably long period of time. Being confined to a steel creation tank, unable to do what he excelled at, for five long months had caused him to question his abilities. He worried his razor-sharp skills had been dulled. Fretting over his aptitude was unacceptable and a waste of time, time that needed to be spent gaining ground and getting closer to Gabriel.
He determined that the best way to remedy needless worry was to reassure himself of his unique talent. He needed to prove to himself that he could perform at the same stratospheric level he’d always maintained. He needed to kill, soon, to confirm his competence.
Healing in his maker’s augmented version of amniotic fluid had served its purpose; he felt strong, but unmotivated until the present.
A fresh wave of wrath surged through him. He would kill again and redeem himself. He would kill Gabriel and Melissa, of that he was certain. But in the meantime, a practice exercise designed to sharpen his skill and bolster his confidence was necessary. A training drill involving multiple murders would serve both purposes.
Under normal circumstances, unsanctioned murder was forbidden by his maker. Eugene seldom disobeyed his maker’s edicts. However, the nature of his predicament demanded revision to the rules in place, they demanded defiance. Continuous training had been an integral part of his development and remained a crucial component in maintaining his advantage over humanity. His DNA necessitated that he engage in regular hunting; therefore killing without orders from Terzini could not be considered wrong given the circumstances. His unofficial drill was an essential step in readying himself for his most important task: killing Gabriel and Melissa.
Of course, he would not allow himself to diverge from his most momentous undertaking. His mission would remain on schedule. He would merely prepare along the way.
Anticipation overcame Eugene. He felt obliged to answer the call to kill; he needed to act and immediately formulated a plan. Months of rejuvenation had left him with a thirst that needed to be satiated; he hadn’t realized its urgency until the root cause of his lethargy was identified.
Behind the wheel of his behemoth Hummer H1 Alpha, a violent tremor racked his body. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as the wrath he longed for finally simmered and smoldered within. Indecision melted away and rage replaced it. He had many miles to travel before reaching Harbingers Falls and knew that such a distance would be impossible to close if he did not kill. The intrinsic need to pursue and conquer prey was woven into the fabric of his being; carnage was more than a simple desire for him. It beckoned him like a lustful lover and did not dismiss him until its need was met.
Gripped by bloodlust, he pulled off the highway at the next exit and searched for a residential neighborhood. He pulled his laptop computer from the backseat and accessed the Internet. He started searching for criminal activity between his current location and Harbingers Falls. He sought criminal activity in surrounding states, specifically those where the suspects or assailants had been identified in some way. He planned to target criminals because of their ineffectual function in society; the police would not bother wasting a tremendous amount of time or taxpayer dollars searching for their slayer. They would likely assume the deaths of delinquents as retaliatory, a drug deal gone awry or revenge for wrongdoings. Regardless, he was confident he would be doing the state a service by disposing of its offenders.
As he perused various sites concerning useless factions of equally useless humans, he happened upon a particularly active and misguided group responsible for several incidents in the neighboring state of Pennsylvania. They called themselves white supremacists, a term he deemed positively absurd. The basic tenets of their membership stated that they expressly believed they were superior to all others racial and religious groups and therefore entitled to dominate them.
As he narrowed his search, he learned that a local chapter of the neo-Nazi group had been orchestrating violent attacks on people who possessed deeper shades of pigmentation than themselves and those who worshipped differently. Eugene decided he would visit one of their local haunts. In fact, he needed to do so. No one would miss the bigoted miscreants, not even their kin who they likely sought to copulate with in order to preserve what they believed to be their true Aryan bloodlines.
Eugene felt the corners of his mouth twist, bearing his lethally pointed incisors. He pulled them downward and suppressed a grimace that would likely startle fragile-minded and easily frightened humans.
He focused his thoughts instead on slaughtering the beings who proudly assumed membership in an elitist club. He thought about the irony contained within such membership, how such lowly creatures could actually believe themselves better than others. No one particular group within the set of humanity could boast bragging rights; they were all inferior beings.
Anticipation swelled within him. He began to tremble, barely able to contain his agitation, his eagerness. He would find a motel and rest for the afternoon before his training exercise would begin that evening at a known hangout of the neo-Nazi gang that was believed responsible for many of the violent crimes committed in their neighborhood.
He started his car and pulled out of concealment then proceeded down the tree-lined lane. He crossed several similar streets until he reached a main thoroughfare. He continued until he found a shabby-looking, no-name motel with two cars parked in front. He quickly turned in to the lot, climbed out of his vehicle and entered the motel office.
After a brief encounter with an elderly man wearing the thickest eyeglass lenses he’d ever seen, Eugene procured a room at the far corner of the L-shaped outfit. He visited the vending machine and bought two sandwiches with questionable-looking meat and cheese inside and two colas before retiring to his room. He needed to rest before his much-anticipated pursuit commenced. And according to his research, he would be pursuing quarry a
ccustomed to violence.
His insides trilled at the thought of toying with adversaries familiarized with brutality and savagery. They made for a more interesting experience. Though his aggression invariably trumped theirs with ease, it was still far more exciting when victims offered a fight.
He wrestled the urge to leave without delay and murder them in broad daylight, but reconsidered the ramifications of such actions. Terzini would be less than pleased. Instead, he ate his sandwiches and drank his colas and soothed himself into a vitriol-filled trance for the next four hours.
Once the sun had set and the earth was blanketed in darkness, he roused himself from his meditation and prepared for his expedition.