Dan called it in. What else could he do?

"Transport-4 to control, I've cleared the LKP. No patrol, no civilians, and no bodies but I found blood here. It's very light, but I think it's a trail leading outside." Dan had to shout to be audible over the storm, and the reply was almost lost to the howling wind.

"Understood, Transport-4." Rawls' voice—He must have commandeered the channel—replied. "Can you follow it?"

Dan pursed his lips, and his veil flailed out across the concrete. Rain thundered down, drowning out all else. "Negative," he bellowed. "The storm erased the trail." Lightning flashed again, throwing white spots across his vision. He remembered the shadow in the diner. "But I might have a lead."

"Continue your search, but be careful," Rawls ordered. "A full quarter of the street hasn't been cleared yet. Whatever took my people might go for them next."

"Understood." Dan pulled his poncho tight and scanned the nearby buildings. The diner was a parking lot away, but a print shop lay across the street. He squinted in the darkness, looking for broken windows and open doors. The storm raged on, but no lightning flashed. He couldn't see a damn thing in either direction.

He tried to judge the distance. The diner was a bit too far for his veil to reliably sweep, so he sent it towards the print shop instead. Long tendrils of shimmering blue traced through concrete and rebar and dirt and plaster. They snaked across the closed doors and through the cheap nylon carpeting. Dan felt the usual things: Dust, debris, the odd human hair and other microscopic bits that tend to fall off people. He found no blood—

Right up until he did. And this time it wasn't a light spray. He caught the fringes first; the outliers. Like red lines on a map, half a dozen little rivers that he followed upstream. They converged at the center, into a pool, deep and wet. Then, the bodies. Dead flesh, his veil reported dutifully. Human. Pieces of them, scattered haphazardly. Dan felt a rush of cold that had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. Deep in the bowels of t-space, a piece of metal began to fall.

His veil raced through the rest of the building, covering the walls and ceiling, searching for anything alive and failing miserably. Dan swore, and summoned his welder's goggles and a flashlight. He strapped the goggles over his head, and opened a small portal inside the print shop. Another portal was made within the voluminous sleeves of his poncho, and he poked the flashlight through it and clicked it on. His veil was an amazing tool, and in many ways, better than sight. Yet even so, there were some things that just didn't translate well to a human mind. The sight of a pile of dismembered corpses was one of those things.

He took in the scene with a sense of horrified detachment. He felt like his his mind had separated from his body. His thoughts were completely out of line with his body's reaction. The chill in Dan's neck spread across his shoulders and raced down his spine. His fingers tingled with pins and needles. His lips went dry, despite the storm, and his feet went numb. He had to force himself to breathe evenly. Through it all, his brain took notes: at least three victims, judging by the number of left hands. The blood was fresh, very little had dried out. His veil wasn't the best at determining temperature, but he was pretty sure it was still warm. The skin was pale and ragged. Drained of blood, and shredded. Like a wild animal had torn into it.

Dan snapped the portals shut.

He held up his hands, ignoring the patter of the rain. He was shaking. Not from the cold, and not from fear either. He'd seen things so much worse than this. It was a physical response to foreign stimuli. It was something inflicted upon him. A power. Something old and familiar.

He keyed his radio. "Transport-4 reporting in. Found three bodies, dismembered, partially eaten. I think this was Cannibal."

There was a long and uncomfortable pause. Finally, "That seems unlikely, Transport-4. The People are unlikely to deploy Cannibal in a populated area. That would be immensely counterproductive for their image. They've already managed to mostly distance themselves from him. Bringing him into such close contact with Champion would destroy much of the goodwill they've won with the masses."

Dan opened his channel, opened his mouth, and lost his voice. How could he describe it? How could he describe the feeling of being hunted? The intense prickling at the back of his neck? The hungry stare of a predator? How did one elaborate on pure animal instinct?

He went with, "My gut says it's Cannibal. I'm... familiar with his handiwork. This feels like him. I mean, literally. He's got a sort of fear aura, and I just got hit by it."

Dan considered that fact for a moment, then willed himself into the building below him. This one had no bodies, very little blood, and no reason to fear, yet immediately, he was beset by shivers. His hands went clammy, his breath came in pants and gasps. It was like an aura infesting the building; a slimy, oily taint left behind by a foul beast. It wasn't exactly like what he'd felt in that cheap motel where he'd first encountered the Cannibal, but it was close enough.

"It's Cannibal," Dan repeated, and the knowledge hardened his heart. He'd faced the monster twice now, and while he'd hoped he killed it the last go-round, he'd never really believed it. That was his failing. These people would still be alive if he'd done it right the first time.

He wouldn't make the same mistake.

Dan turned to face the diner. Lightning flashed high in the sky. There was nothing there. No signs of life, no shadow in the window or flicker of movement. But there was a feeling, so subtle that he hadn't even noticed. Something that had been slowly building from the moment he'd arrived.

"I'm going after him," Dan said, and willed himself towards his fear.