destruction as repentance to a world he had wronged by
releasing three such savages upon it. He would give them
no further pleasure.
The three watched from the shadows of the cave as the
sun finally cleared the horizon, its’s rays falling upon the
Master’s form, and without a sound, he burst into flame
and was gone.
Paris became just the first step in a macabre dance of
debauchery and death. They fed voraciously and with
relish. They refined their skills in delaying death so that
they could wring out every moment of their victim’s pain
and desperation. They grew the sizeable fortune
unwittingly willed to them to grand proportions, assuring
their ability to do what they wanted, when they wanted.
They traveled throughout Europe, Asia and North Africa
never tiring of one another’s company. Never tiring of the
hunt. Never tiring of the flush that came with feeding.
As the politics of Europe plunged carelessly toward the
onset of the first great war, the three friends were
ensconced in a small villa on the outskirts of Madrid. The
furnishings were simple, little more than what they needed
to be comfortable. Though they had traveled the world,
there were no artifacts hoarded, no great works of art
collected, no trinkets to remind them of the wondrous
things they had seen. When not hunting, they entertained
themselves by retelling the tales of past hunts.
“Remember the virgin in Singapore,” Nathan would begin.
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