Five hundred years ago he'd started his so-called massacres with 23 murders, mostly with a garrote, and watching them die slowly, he was a dangerous young man. He was human then, how someone could do that and be human, most people couldn't figure. His stepparents never knew about them, they didn't find it strange that for no apparent reason their strange son was burning certain articles of his clothes, or some nights he wouldn't come home and when he did he went to bed immediately. After a time though, the father of the family took his inability to stay in school as a sign of rebellion and shipped him off; though in reality, the military didn't help this much, only taught him some new techniques. Now, with the assistance of his claws and fangs, his murders or blood-baths or whatever it is that he decided to do was more perfected, messier and less time consuming. In other words, they were more fun.

He had been playing guard for Ms. Valentine, the leader of the Mexican drug cartel. Why was he wasting his time with this human? She was a game, just another thing to keep him busy while he bided his time, waiting for the real catch. What he really wanted was to get in the room with that Lara girl, and torture her; it's what he was good at. Sage should have known when she found out what he was; she should have known there would be no way for her to control him, much less to keep him from doing what he did best. In recent nights her staff had been becoming increasingly annoying.

This night was unlike the rest, he stood with his back to a door where several were talking, after a moment of listening he turned and walked into the room, finding the one that had been talking and facing him, an unnatural gleam in his brown eyes, as if he were an animal hunting his prey.

"Talking behind someone's back isn't nice, Juan"

This wasn't the man's name, merely used to tick him off. He turned and attempted to ram through David with a knife. He just smirked, stepping to the side, grabbing the hand with the knife and twisting it backward before grabbing the man by the throat and crushing it in his hand. He dragged the little Mexican off to another room, though he knew the man was already dead. It was time to play.

The room he was standing in resembled a ballroom or a banquet hall, there were a few chairs scattered around. Taking the gun from the already dead man, David fired three shots, one at the ceiling, making a nice hole, another at the mantle and finally he laid his head back, shooting himself in the shoulder. It would be an interesting shot, though considering it was supposed to look like the man had shot him before he had to be. The group from the other, main room came in to see what David wanted them to or less. Their 'friend' was dead on the ground a gun in his hand, him bleeding from a hole in his shoulder, though what they likely did not expect was what he was doing. He stood over the body, his head tilted to one side, the heart of the dead man in his right hand watching as he slowly closed his clawed fist into the heart, the blood spattering out of it like a sprinkler having a fit. It dotted his face, on his hair. One man leveled a gun on him, one shouted monster, another choked and they were all dead before the bullets even left the barrel of their gun.

By the time he had started, he had gained the attention of several men, close to 50 of Valentine's men, most of them the newbie's or less experienced. They didn't put up much of a fight, most actually stopped when they got to the room and just stared, they didn't know what hit them. Not an hour later, he stopped and stood in the mess he had made, seemingly proud of himself. All the men were dead, and the one day that someone could say that David Black wore white, his shirt was soaked through with crimson blood, some areas were darker then others as they were older. His face was spackled with blood, not that he minded much, he took a handkerchief out of some pocket and wiped it off, sitting back in one of the chairs, leaning back a little as he licked the blood off his clawed fingers. He smiled cruelly, the light still burning in his eyes, they were brighter then they normally were; there was a look on his face as if he were waiting for something, or someone.

"That was fun."