Keith's uncontrolled hunger and bloodthirst have led to the death of many innocents in the city. The brutal killings had sparked unrest and fear among its residents. The reports of the savage attacks were flooding the police authorities, leading them to believe they were dealing with a cannibal on the loose. Unaware of the existence of werewolves, the police were baffled and terrified, not knowing how to handle the relentless brutality.
"There have been reports of fearsome killings happening downtown. Police authorities are yet to identify the perpetrator of this act. However, there seem to be different speculations among the residents. Some say it's a cannibal, a wild animal on the loose, some go as far as saying this is God's punishment of the sinners in that part of the city. At this, no one seems to know who or what is behind these killings. Stay tuned as we bring you live, a speech from White House Chief of Staff," a newscaster from the TV reported, in a grave tone.
"What the heck is happening down there?" A husky voice lamented from the background. With a cup of coffee in his right hand, Officer Brent walked over to his desk and picked up the telephone, and dialed a number at a quite fast pace. "Hello, I got your mail. I need those files on my desk right away!" he said, slamming the landline on the desk.
While he turned to take another sip of the hot coffee, the phone rang, catching him unaware and causing him to spill the coffee on his neat blue uniform "Oh shit!" "Hello, what?!" he shouted on the phone.
"Sir, there has been another incident at Crest Avenue, downtown. The cannibal seems to have struck again. Your attention is needed here," the voice on the phone called out.
"Crest Avenue? That's just…. You know what, just give me a few minutes, I'll be there shortly. Officer Brent picked up his coat from the hanger beside his desk and without caring so much about his stained uniform stormed out of his office while his car keys juggled after him in his back pocket. Officer Brent's heart raced as he drove through the city's darkened streets toward Crest Avenue. The reports of the savage killings echoed in his mind, and the fear of encountering the relentless brutality consumed him. He clenched his fists around the steering wheel, his knuckles becoming white. The crime site was marked by flashing red and blue lights in the distance, and as he approached closer, he could hear distant sirens wailing.
Upon arrival, Officer Brent parked his cruiser hastily and rushed toward the scene. The night air was filled with tension and the scent of blood. The sight that awaited him chilled him to the bone. An elderly lady's body lay strewn on the ground, torn to pieces, with weird bite marks on her jugular.
"Oh, sweet Jesus!," he whispered under his breath, his breaths becoming heavy with unease. His colleagues were already gathered around the gruesome scene, some taking pictures, others marking evidence. Officer Peterson, a seasoned investigator, approached Brent with a grim expression.
"Looks like we've got ourselves another victim," Peterson said, his voice low and somber. "It's getting worse out here."
Brent nodded, trying to gather himself. "Any witnesses?" "None so far," Peterson replied. "Neighbors heard some commotion, but no one saw anything."
As Officer Brent bent down to examine the body, he noticed the strange markings on the woman's neck. The bite wounds were deep and jagged, not like anything he had seen before.
"Peterson, take a look at these bite marks," Brent said, pointing towards the neck. "This doesn't look like the work of a human."
Peterson squinted, studying the marks closely. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I'm not sure," Brent said, standing up. "But something is off about this whole thing. It's like the attacker had superhuman strength."
Just then, Officer Ramirez, a young and eager recruit, approached the scene, looking visibly shaken. "Officer Brent, Officer Peterson, I saw something strange on my way here."
"What did you see, Ramirez?" Brent asked, intrigued.
"I was driving down Willow Street, and I saw a large figure running through the alleys," Ramirez said, his eyes wide with fear. "It was fast, too fast for any human."
"Do you hallucinate now, Ramirez?" Peterson said, shocked by what he said.
"I am damn serious. I know what I saw. Whatever it is, it looks alien and dangerous," Ramirez added.
Peterson exchanged a glance with Brent, both sharing an unspoken understanding.
The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, and the word "werewolf" flashed through their minds.
"We need to be careful here," Brent said, his voice low. "We can't jump to conclusions, but we can't rule out anything either."
As they continued their investigation, more officers arrived at the scene, securing the area and interviewing nearby residents. The tension in the air was palpable as they all knew that a powerful and dangerous force lurked in the shadows.
Officer Brent approached a witness, a middle-aged man named Mr. Jenkins, who lived nearby. Mr. Jenkins was visibly distressed as he recounted what he heard.
"I heard screams and growls," he said, his voice trembling. "It was unlike anything I've ever heard before."
"Did you see anything?" Brent asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.
"No, I didn't dare to look out my window," Mr. Jenkins replied. "But it sounded like a wild animal, a vicious beast."
Brent thanked Mr. Jenkins for his cooperation and walked away, deep in thought. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that they were dealing with something otherworldly.
The next day, Officer Brent delved into the research, searching for any historical accounts or folklore that could shed light on the mysterious attacks. He discovered old tales of werewolves and how they were known for their insatiable hunger and brutal killings during full moons.
"Could it be?" Brent mumbled to himself, his mind swirling with disbelief. "Werewolves, in our city?"