#4 – Reaver
Byron Snow was not happy.
He was far from it, actually.
You would think that someone who spends his life sleeping, partying and indulging in any excess his mind could think of in equal ways, a man who would never have to worry about money for as long as he lived, would not have to deal with such things as unhappiness.
Yet he did.
He did because the reason for his unhappiness relentlessly followed him wherever he went. It stared at him at any club he went. It brought him his supper, he could see them even from his penthouse apartment, far above the city, aimlessly loitering like the mindless cattle they all were.
Humans were his problem.
Humans were the reason of his unhappiness.
300 years ago, back when he was “born” into his new life, he and his kind would have no issue with rampaging through villages burning everything in sight, openly feeding under the moonlight, enjoying from the warm sustenance as well as from the fear saturating the atmosphere. But those halcyon days were long gone. Quietly bowing their heads and blending in with the meat was now the name of the game. Both The Council and The Covenant had agreed to this. In this new era of enlightenment and widespread information, acting in such an open manner would only invite more attention than the one they already got from The Huntsmen, and that was more than enough attention already.
So they blended in.
Most of them finally made use of their vast fortunes, amassed through centuries of never needing a single dime, spending it in every possible thing they could conceive off in order to chase boredom and hunger away.
Reaving was unanimously outlawed by The Council, the decision enforced by The Covenant. Anyone found reaving, no matter how careful or privately they did so, would be executed on the spot. No exceptions.
And so, Byron Snow hid. And lived. And was unhappy.
He was unhappy while a once proud and mighty race cowered under the numerical superiority of the meat. While their legend was forgotten, the terror they once instilled in the hearts of men and children alike lost to the passage of time. He saw as the meat made fools out of them, turning them into parodies of their former selves, little more than fodder for the romantic delusions of teen-aged girls, spinsters and unsatisfied housewives.
And the worst part was that every day, every month, every year he kept on feeding but not nurturing himself, he cared a little less about all of those things that should have continued to fuel his righteous indignation. He was growing fat and complacent.
He had to do something about it.
The first night he went out there was yet to be a costume. He had honestly convinced himself it would be a one time thing. Something to sate his thirst and be done with it. He knew it had to be someone who wouldn’t be missed. Someone you’d already expect to found splattered across the walls and floor of a dirty alley. When he heard the woman scream, he knew that was it. Even as weakened as it was, his body did most of the work for him without his even realizing.
The woman in itself was of little interest. Who cared what had happened to her? She was nothing but an enabler. By being the victim, she allowed him to come at him in any way he damn pleased. He was the real star of the show.
His original thought had been to just take things slow and enjoy it as much as possible in order to get the most out of it, considering this was gonna be a one-time thing. Even when the first warm jet started gushing, he innocently still believed this. But it had been so long since he had last reaved. The sensation, the rush, the excitement, the frenzy.
It completely took over him. How could they have stopped doing this?
How could they keep denying themselves something that was so unequivocally theirs?
It was wrong in so many fundamental levels. He knew it all the way inside of him, as he felt his body getting stronger, already demanding more sustenance.
He would need to disguise himself. No need to attract the attention of The Covenant. And already the humans had this long standing tradition of dressing in gaudy outfits and beating the living hell out of each other. And certainly no one would miss a few dead robbers or rapists. Nor the police would dig to deep when they found their broken, maimed and dry remains. They simply had it coming.
Byron Snow smiled.
He was happy for the first time in a long time. Happy that he had finally found a way of being himself once again out in the open, were his kind truly belonged.
Out there in the night.
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