Beginning Anew

Blood Rush

Monday night – really Tuesday morning Walter decided, was the ideal time. The fewest people were out and it was easier to avoid being spotted. He crawled up the wall between two buildings, sinking his sharp claws into the concrete. He leapt from building to building, chasing down a pigeon, which he finally caught. With one swift motion he bit off the creature's head. It gave a satisfactory crunch as he ate it.

It was becoming more difficult for him to keep his base urges in check while he was cooped up in Barbara's house. His pent-up frustrations rose, as he tried to fight off the biological urge to let loose. He decided it was better to get it over with and take care of the rising need to hunt and kill. He couldn't keep up his sophisticated act forever. It would drive him crazy.

There was a reason trolls often fought each other. It was their way of addressing and satisfying their instinctual drive. Walter had to admit, darting between buildings at breakneck speed felt exhilarating, like a breath of freedom after long incarceration, but it didn't fulfill that burning desire inside him to destroy something.

Walter hissed and then let out a roar as he snatched up an old, broken antenna on top of a roof. He smashed it down, breaking it into several pieces. The small show of strength sent a surge of genuine satisfaction coursing through his body.

He heard shouts behind him. "AAARRRGGHH!, stay back! Seriously, how many of these things are there?"

"Wingman!"

Walter approached the edge of the roof, looking down to spy Toby and his Krubera knee-deep in goblins. The pests jumped at them from all sides, clawing with their skinny arms and legs. Walter grinned at the thought of ripping the little beasts limb from limb.

This was the perfect opportunity. Killing a few dozen goblins was sure to satisfy this blood lust, at least for now. Walter dove into the fight, letting the heat rise inside him. His eyes burned brighter as he pulled out a knife. He landed precisely where he meant to, slicing through three goblins at once. He flung two knives, impaling another pair of the pests.

From behind AAARRRGGHH!, Toby gaped. "Strickler?" he asked, confused.

Walter didn't offer a reply. Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't. The blood lust was too thick in his mind. He threw himself at the goblins, slicing them open with both knife and claw. He grabbed one and tore it apart with his bare hands, almost laughing as the pure joy of the massacre overwhelmed him.

He stood up, one last goblin struggling to break his choke-hold, terror in its eyes. Walter grinned as he squeezed. The goblin's head exploded, covering both Walter and Toby in green gore.

Walter let out a deep breath as the tension and frustration of before vanished and calm washed over him like a cool breeze. The blood lust was gone. From his pocket he withdrew a clean cloth and neatly wiped his face, as if nothing had happened.

"How disappointing, Domzalski," Walter commented, satisfied his voice had lost a bit of its gruff edge. "And here I thought you were calling yourself a Trollhunter." He glanced at the chubby teen.

Toby continued to gawk at Walter, Warhammer in hand. "What – what was that?" he squeaked.

"I thought that was quite obvious," Walter retorted, wiping the last of the blood from his face and neck.

"The way you were moving and fighting – I thought you'd lost it and I was gonna have to fight you too!" Toby exclaimed. "You could at least have said something!"

AAARRRGGHH! gave Walter an annoyed frown, standing protectively behind Toby.

"Woooow!"

Walter whirled around to find the source of the oddly familiar voice, knife at the ready. The voice's owner screamed at him.