Calm before the Storm

Smith strode away from the local law enforcement, his polished Oxford shoes clicking against the asphalt with metronomic precision. The morning sun caught his silver hair, creating a halo effect that would have seemed angelic if not for the predatory grace of his movements. He reached into his suit jacket - a bespoke creation from Savile Row that cost more than most people made in a year - and withdrew a sleek satellite phone that wouldn't be available to the public for at least another decade.

The device rang only once before connecting.

"Report." The voice on the other end held centuries of authority, each syllable weighted with power that made even Smith's immortal blood run a touch cooler.

"Master, the situation is... intriguing." Smith moved beyond the perimeter his agents had established, seeking privacy from prying ears. "The carnage is extensive but localized. Whoever - or whatever - did this showed remarkable restraint afterwards."

"Is that Madonna I hear giggling in the background?" Smith's enhanced hearing picked up the distinctive laugh of the Material Girl herself. "I wasn't aware this was a party line."

"Oh darling," Madonna's voice purred through the connection, "you know I can't resist a good bloodbath. Besides, I'm feeling peckish after meeting these absolutely delicious soldiers. The things they can do with those muscles..."

Smith pinched the bridge of his nose, a very human gesture he'd picked up over the centuries. "Aren't you supposed to be in New York?"

Her laugh tinkled like breaking crystal. "Sweet boy, you of all people should know distance means nothing to our kind. I can be in California for breakfast, New York for lunch, and still make it to Paris for dinner. Speaking of dinner..."

"That's quite enough," the Master's voice cut through Madonna's flirtation like a steel blade. "Smith, focus. Has whatever caused this regained its sanity after the frenzy?"

Smith surveyed the crime scene, his inhuman eyes picking out details the forensics team would never notice. Blood spatter patterns that told stories of savage joy, of primal hunger unleashed. But also control - the violence had stopped at precise boundaries, hadn't spilled into the surrounding neighborhoods.

"It appears so, Master. If it were still in the grip of bloodlust, this charming little town would be swimming in gore by now. As it stands, the damage was confined to the football field and its immediate vicinity. Quite considerate, really."

"The Order cannot be allowed to intervene," the Master's tone brooked no argument. "Their... zealotry would complicate matters. A war between our kind and their fanatics would be... inconvenient."

"Particularly with the new millennium approaching," Madonna chimed in. "I have tours planned, you know. Can't have holy warriors interrupting my concerts."

Smith ignored her, focusing on his Master's concerns. "I understand completely, sir. I'll handle this with appropriate discretion. Though I must admit..." He paused, watching Deputy Chen question one of his agents. The way her pulse fluttered in her throat was positively mouthwatering. "The thought of more aggressive solutions does hold a certain appeal. So many tender morsels walking around, completely unaware of what lurks in their midst."

"Control yourself," the Master snapped. "Your enthusiasm for the hunt is well-documented, but wholesale slaughter would draw exactly the kind of attention we're trying to avoid. This is not the dark ages any more."

"Of course, Master." Smith straightened his already immaculate tie. "Though you must admit, it would be rather exciting. I haven't had a proper rampage since the Crusades. These modern humans with their processed foods and sedentary lifestyles... they're practically pre-marinated."

Madonna's laugh cut through again. "Oh honey, you should try athletes. All that clean living and exercise... divine. Though I prefer musicians myself. Something about creative types makes them taste like fine wine."

She didn't mention that those aspiring musicians came to her like moths to flames. Being a celebrity has its perks after all.

"If you're quite finished," the Master's patience was clearly wearing thin. "Smith, contain this situation. Find whatever did this and determine if it can be... rehabilitated. If not, eliminate it quietly. We cannot afford complications, not with everything we have planned."

"Already in progress, sir. I've established a quarantine perimeter under the guise of a rabies outbreak. CDC protocols provide excellent cover for restricting movement. And if a few locals happen to go missing during the investigation..." Smith's smile showed just a hint of fang. "Well, animal attacks can be so unpredictable."

"Just keep it clean," the Master ordered. "The last thing we need is another Whitechapel incident."

"That was ONE time," Smith protested. "And I maintain that those women were practically begging to be-"

"Enough." The Master's voice held enough force to make Smith's teeth ache. "Handle it. Discreetly. And try to keep your... appetites in check. Or will do it for you."

The line went dead with the finality of a coffin lid slamming shut. Smith pocketed the satellite phone, inhaling deeply to savor the rich bouquet of scents wafting across the crime scene. Fear, blood, and the lingering traces of whatever had caused this delightful chaos - they all combined into an intoxicating perfume that made his ancient blood sing with anticipation.

He stood motionless for several heartbeats, his preternatural senses extending far beyond human limitations. Despite what the locals might think, he wasn't here just to contain this situation. No, this was an opportunity - one that could satisfy multiple appetites if handled properly.

The Master's warning echoed in his mind, but Smith allowed himself a small, predatory smile. Results were what mattered, after all. The methods... well, those had always been open to interpretation. And Smith had centuries of experience in creative interpretation.

His gaze drifted to Deputy Chen, who was now interviewing witnesses at the edge of the crime scene. Even from this distance, he could hear her heartbeat, steady and strong, pumping that delicious blood through her athletic frame. She moved with the unconscious grace of someone who maintained peak physical condition - a rarity in this age of convenience and sloth.

"Such a waste," he murmured to himself, "letting all that potential just... age naturally." His tongue flicked out, tasting the air like a serpent. She would make an exquisite addition to the family, with proper guidance. Though perhaps not immediately - good hunting required patience, after all.

Rodriguez materialized at his side, moving with the liquid grace that marked their kind. "Sir, preliminary containment is complete. We've established checkpoints on all major roads, and the local media has been fed the rabies story. CDC credentials are holding up under scrutiny."

"Excellent." Smith adjusted his cufflinks - platinum, with small rubies that matched the color of fresh arterial spray. "And our... special equipment?"

"In place, sir. UV sensors, motion detectors calibrated to our specific requirements, and enough firepower to level a small country. Though..." Rodriguez hesitated, which was unlike him. "Some of the gear is attracting attention. The locals aren't completely stupid."

Smith's laugh was like silk over steel. "No, they're not. Which makes this all the more entertaining. How long since you've had a proper hunt, Rodriguez? Not these sanitized modern operations, but a real chase?"

The younger man's eyes gleamed with barely suppressed hunger. "Too long, sir. The protocols-"

"Are guidelines, nothing more." Smith waved a manicured hand dismissively. "The Master wants results. How we achieve those results... well, that's where creativity comes into play. And speaking of play..." He nodded toward a cluster of FBI technicians processing evidence. "Make sure all samples from the scene are... compromised. Can't have some enterprising lab tech discovering anomalies in the blood work."

Rodriguez grinned, showing just a hint of razor sharp teeth. "Already handled, sir. Our team collected everything of significance. The local crime scene unit will find exactly what we want them to find - normal human blood, normal human tissue, and conveniently inconclusive DNA that suggests ursine involvement."

"Thorough as always." Smith approved. He'd chosen Rodriguez personally, recognizing a kindred spirit in the former Spanish Inquisitor. Some habits transcended centuries. "Now, about our containment procedures..."

"Standard protocols, sir?" Rodriguez's tone suggested he knew the answer.

"Oh no, I think this situation calls for something more... comprehensive." Smith began walking toward the command center they'd established, his shoes leaving no prints despite the blood-soaked ground. "We have a perfect opportunity here. A small, isolated community. Limited outside contact. And a convenient cover story that allows us to operate with minimal oversight."

Rodriguez fell into step beside him, their movements synchronized with inhuman precision. "The Master did specify discretion."

"And discrete we shall be." Smith's smile would have sent sharks swimming for safer waters. "But discretion doesn't preclude efficiency. Or entertainment. Tell me, how many missing persons cases does this charming little town typically handle in a year?"

"Three or four, according to local records. Mostly runaways and domestic situations."

"Hmm. And what's an acceptable statistical variation in such matters? Say, during a period of heightened animal activity and restricted movement?"

Rodriguez's answering smile was equally predatory. "I believe a 200% increase would still fall within normal parameters, especially given the circumstances. Particularly if some of the missing were eventually found... partially consumed by wildlife."

"My thoughts exactly." Smith paused at the edge of the parking lot, watching Deputy Chen climb into her patrol car. Even through the tinted windows, he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand kept straying to her weapon. Such delicious instincts. "Have our teams start compiling lists. Young, healthy specimens with minimal family connections. Tourists passing through. The usual candidates."

"And the local law enforcement?"

Smith's eyes tracked Chen's car until it disappeared around a corner. "Leave them for now. They may prove useful in maintaining our cover story. Though I must admit, Deputy Chen has caught my attention. Such... potential."

"Sir?" Rodriguez raised an eyebrow. "The Master was quite clear about unnecessary complications."

"My dear Rodriguez," Smith chuckled, the sound like bones breaking in harmony, "nothing I do is unnecessary. Every action serves a purpose. Speaking of which..." He nodded toward a group of reporters gathering at the police line. "I believe it's time for our first press conference. Let's make sure everyone understands the serious nature of this rabies outbreak."