[i][b]Alex Cain – 7 Days Ago[/i][/b]
“Why are young doing this?!” Came the voice of a desperate girl somewhere in the dark recesses of the factory, but there was no reply save for her own screams. Cain dashed along the series of corridors with his Remington 870, its mounted flashlight provided the only light during the stormy Scottish night. Cain stopped as he reached a corner, the sight of blood draped along the wall and across the wall warning him to be cautious as he proceeded. He swore under his breath knowing that he was probably too late to save any of the teenagers. There should have been around ten of them, all having decided to camp out in the abandoned and supposedly haunted factory. Little did they know that the danger came from within their own group, as Cain’s investigation revealed only too late that one of them was a Rugaru and was clearly on the tipping point. 

“Oh fuck!” he cursed as he turned the corner and came across (what he estimated to be) five or so bodies (or rather pulp) left strewn along the floor. “You son of a bitch! Come try taking a bite out of me!” he roared, hoping that he could lure the monster towards him and end this quickly. Not stopping to wait around the deceased however, he continued along the narrow corridors and snaked in and out of the large industrial rooms. Every now and then he would come across another pile of remnants or hear a scream, each time causing him to press on faster and each time he would get closer to his prey. When he finally caught up to the beast he was sitting beside the body of a teenage girl whose throat he had bitten out. 

“I used to love her you know. That’s why I came here. I wanted to see her and make her fall in love with me” grumbled the Rugaru as he sat stroking the girl’s thigh.

“Nothing says ‘I love you’ to a girl quite like butchering her and feeling up her dead body” joked Cain, although his voice was cold and flat; it was more a taunt. As Cain expected the monster turned quickly and lunged towards him, but with one quick burst from the Remington the monster found itself without legs and fell face first into the concrete floor. With another two shots the monster found itself without arms. “You know, people always go on about how firearms are useless, how they can’t kill monsters and such. And that is true. But let’s face it: even if they can’t finish the job, monsters are a lot less scary when they’ve no arms or legs.” At that, Cain whacked out one of his hip-flasks and coated the monster in absinthe before burning it alive. It was not pleasant but it had to be done and Cain simply focused on what the monster had done to the teenagers, rather than think about the young kind boy he had heard so many good things about. 

Once he was sure the job was complete, Cain left the building and got into his car where he made a call to his superiors requesting a cleanup crew. To his surprise he was ordered to report to Glasgow for a briefing, which he could only assume was due to his superior’s displeasure at the way the mission had gone. 

[b][i]Alex Cain – 1 Days Ago[/i][/b]
Cain stirred from his slumber with a sweat and clenched fists, drawing the attention of the old woman who sat beside him on the plane. It had not been a pleasant dream for him, with distorted old memories corrupting his mind and bringing him nothing but sadness. It was to be expected given the job and Cain knew of a few colleagues who used to consistently suffer night terrors; fortunately Cain rarely had bad dreams and in this instance he put it down to the stress of moving. “Are you ok dear? You looked like you were having a nightmare?” asked the old lady with a comforting smile. 

“I’m fine thank you, I put it down to the heat” Cain replied as he dabbed his head with a napkin. Indeed he could already feel the difference in heat, with L.A. being considerably hotter than the Scotland (where he had previously been on an assignment). The two shared a smile before the lady went back quietly to her book, leaving Cain to stare out of the window and over the familiar desert landscape. This was a big change for him, as not only was he moving country but he knew that there was more to this transfer than he had so far been told. In truth his brief had been… well… brief. All he knew thus far was that he would be joining a team full-time for the first time since his old team was disbanded, and that L.A. required a heavier presence of experienced D.I.S operatives. Surely the D.I.S had others they could send? Other Americans close by? If they were flying him across the pond it had to be because he brought something to the table that the team needed, but what? He was a soldier, a fighter, a dime a dozen.